


Afterglow

by uhright



Series: Questions and Answers [2]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: !!!!, Angst, Babies, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Dad Joel, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, NOW STARRING, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Road Trips, Sexual Content, Smut, So much angst, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhright/pseuds/uhright
Summary: You seem to have moved on with the help of Tommy, traveling cross country until the urge to stay dictates your need for unfiltered freedom. Years pass without a word or a mention of his name, until a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a girl with a bad attitude and a bite on her arm show up at Tommy's doorstep. Just as you were starting to forget, too. *Sequel to "Curiosity"*





	1. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO THE SEQUEL IS FINALLY HERE AND I'M JUST AS EXCITED AS YOU ARE.
> 
> Oh and just so you know, this is a sequel to "Curiosity", so if you haven't read it I suggest you do that first then come back here!
> 
> Here's the link: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7341490/chapters/16676728

Everything, you find, comes to an end. Relationships, stories, life, beginnings themselves.

Your story, you find, is just beginning. You see that now, as if the Fireflies have wiped the fear and judgement from your eyes and have allowed you to start over.

_When you're lost in the darkness, look for the light._

You used to think Joel was your light, a beam of salvation to bring you out of your hell, yet he was part of the reason you stayed there. He held the Darkness within his heart that the Fireflies talked about escaping from.

Around three years in, Tommy takes you to the Fireflies' main base at the University of Eastern Colorado, a place where vaccine testing is top priority. At the entrance, Marlene asks if you can do something for her, something to prove your loyalty.

"We _really_ need your help here," she says, rests a hand against your arm.

Tommy holds out a hand to stop her words, as if he already knows what she'll ask. "Marlene, I don't think—"

"She's an adult, Tommy. She can decide things for herself."

The look on his face speaks of wariness, and with just her eyes, she dares him to speak.

"I'll do it," you say, allow her to sweep you away from a protesting Tommy, and everything happens in a blur. You're taken to the lab, stripped of your clothes and forced into a hospital gown. The surgeon takes you to a room marked "Quarantine", dons gloves and a germ mask and asks you to lay down on the only table in the room. A few other Fireflies are there to hold you down as he begins.

You don't know what the process entails, but when a thick needle slides into the pulse along your neck, you start struggling. The burn is unlike anything you've experienced, feels as if someone has lit every inch of your body on fire and your blood literally boils inside your veins. The surgeon and his colleagues back away, allowing you to lean over the table and vomit as your stomach ejects its contents.

You soon fall asleep once the burn has circulated through your entire body.

* * *

 

You wake up after a week spent borderline comatose, feeling sore and miserable before your eyes even open. Apparently your body didn't take kindly to the virus, injected so they could administer the cure, ruining the whole process.

You're back at Tommy's, a small townhouse surrounded by other Firefly members' homes.

He's lounging next to you on the bed, reading an old set of _People_ magazines to pass the time.

"Hey," you say, poking him in the rib and causing him to flinch at the unexpected noise and touch.

"Jesus, kid, you scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry." You roll over onto your stomach and attempt to fall back asleep, but Tommy taps you on the back until you hum in recognition.

"How do ya feel?"

"Like a truck just ran me over, backed up, and ran me over again."

The room is silent for a few moments.

"I tried to keep her from doing that to ya."

You shrug your shoulders, not really knowing what to say.

"Gotta be useful somehow."

He snorts. "Joel's ruined you, kid."

* * *

 

The experiment creates a permanent scar on the side of your neck, dark purple in color and, annoyingly, it never ceases bruising, leaving the skin a sickly dark blue long after the wound actually heals.

You easily grow used to Marlene and the Fireflies, but spending every waking moment with the brother of the man you're in love with—whether you'd like to admit it or not—is something you will never be able to get used to. He has his face, his voice, and sometimes you hate yourself when you wake with an ache between your legs because of certain dreams and use Tommy as a solution. He doesn't know. It makes you even more guilty because he legitimately sees you as family, a daughter or little sister or any relation that doesn't involve wanting to fuck your brains out.

But then he speaks what's on his mind, and the words that spew from his lips are not Joel's words, not cynical or wary or distant, but welcoming and humble and everything you guiltily wish Joel was when you first met.

You miss him more than you're willing to admit to anyone, even yourself. It's degrading, needing a person that's moved on long ago, because you know that you're better than begging God above to send him back to you.

Tommy knows. He can hear you crying, mumbling prayers under the safety of blankets and the night because linens don't tell secrets and neither do stars.

A month into your incessant prayers and after a stressful day with no sleep in sight, Tommy snaps at your bumbling form, curled up under layers of blankets.

"What the hell're you muttering about?"

It's difficult to speak through tears. "I was asking God to keep Joel safe."

"I thought you didn't believe in God."

"Someone has to watch over him, Tommy."

* * *

 

The next morning, Tommy introduces you to a Firefly named Ryan, and while you appreciate Tommy's sentiment of trying to get you to move on, Ryan's eyes are the wrong color and his hands aren't warm and calloused and when he kisses you he doesn't leave your face red and raw from a grizzled beard—he doesn't have one at all.

The first time the two of you have sex, you don't open your eyes so you can imagine that it's Joel driving into you and groping you and you can barely keep down the nausea from unknown hands exploring your body in its entirety because it's _wrong wrong wrong!_

Within a week, an infected Firefly bites Ryan. You're forced to shoot him with his own gun.

The University's lab is shut down after that, and both of you break ties with the Fireflies for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED. Now it's gonna be a shitstorm but I'm not sorry tbh. We can all cry together.
> 
> (Follow me on my insta for selfies and sad captions and we can talk about TLOU or this series or whatever: https://www.instagram.com/flowerpowder/?hl=en)


	2. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She looks like him," you say, eventually handing the photo back to Tommy.
> 
> He lets out a slow sigh, runs a thumb over the image. "She was Joel's mini-me. Always right on his heels... Got her smart mouth from him, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well here ya go thanks for all the support you guys ily

Tommy decides that he wants to open a haven of sorts in Jackson County. A small, independent settlement where people can safely stay and avoid the horrors of Quarantine Zones and Fireflies.

You think it's an amazing idea after knowing, first-hand, the horrors of Boston and the experiments Marlene so loved. 

He meets a beautiful woman named Maria, and you can see a bit of Joel in her and a bit of you in him, and for the first time in a long while, you feel at home from watching them. 

You wonder if that's what the two of you looked like, with your push-and-pull dynamic and reluctance within the relationship. 

Fuck it all to hell, you had barely gotten past the “reluctant relationship” stage before he left you, so you have no room to talk about nostalgia when it comes to that kind of thing. 

It's no surprise when, about a year later, the two decide to marry and are deigned leaders of the settlement after a long-lasting battle with the goddamn generator and bandits. 

He takes you with him to visit the brothers' hometown in Texas. It's odd to see how they lived Before, when everything was just work and bills and raising Sarah. 

It's when you see her for the first time, in a photo of her in soccer uniform with Joel by her side, her with blonde hair and freckles and so  _ beautiful _ , him happy and smiling and so  _ young _ .

You can't help but think that she does look like the girl in the cult's basement all those years ago. 

"She looks like him," you say, eventually handing the photo back to Tommy.

He lets out a slow sigh, runs a thumb over the image. "She was Joel's mini-me. Always right on his heels... Got her smart mouth from him, too."

The both of you share a laugh, a memory for all those that were lost. 

"I wish I could've met her. He never talked about her, and what he did share I had to pry out of him." You shake your head, start to amble throughout the living room. "He's kept shit in and it's only hurt him in the long run."

Tommy scoffs, making you turn to look at him. "That's why I've been so keen on getting you to open up about stuff. Nobody should have to turn out like my brother."

* * *

 

You can't believe you're in your mid-twenties at this point. You never thought you would survive the night of the outbreak, and it's been so long that you sometimes forget that the night did happen. 

You had seen your mother torn apart before your own eyes. She sacrificed herself to save you so your brother could sweep you off to safety. 

Of the nightmares you have on a nightly basis, seeing your mother repeatedly ripped apart is the worst one.

* * *

 

Tommy helps you get your own horse, and you end up naming him Johnny Cash because that man's travelled with you and Joel since the beginning, so you think it’s fitting to serve as a reminder of all the good times you’ve had, when you and Joel had no set destination, nothing but your possessions and old pickup trucks to get you through to the next day. 

He starts sending you on quests, of sorts, to get supplies Jackson needs. You learn from one of the men, Raider's his nickname, how to shoot a gun—the sniper rifle is your favorite—and you figure out that your aim isn't bad at all. 

You and Raider start spending more time together, and you find that you rather like his beard and shoulder-length hair, which is always tied back and looks prettier than yours, and how fucking tall he his. He towers over you, offers to go with you on supply runs, and how do you say no to someone like that? Especially if he's offering to help you. 

You feel safer in his arms than you have in months. 

But you can't have sex with him without growing sick with fear because you still hate peaches.

* * *

 

Raider ends up fucking you over a few months into your "relationship" while on a supply run. You're heading back to Jackson with a whole duffel bag of supplies when you're surrounded by bandits. But this is different. Raider starts talking to them as if they're reunited friends or something. 

Next thing you know, you're yanked from Johnny Cash by your hair and are struck in the face with a crowbar, surely breaking your nose. 

You cry out at the breath-taking pain in your face, attempt to fight off Raider when he tries to take the heavy bag slung across your chest. 

Then you remember the switchblade you keep inside your bra for situations like this, quickly open the knife, and drive it into Raider's shoulder. 

He wails in pain yet never relents, not until you yank him forward by the hair you so loved and plant the blade into his neck. 

The waterfall of blood that washes over your upper body doesn't phase you. You simply push him off and roll up onto shaking knees. The bandits stare at you incredulously, never moving. 

You rise to your feet and simply glare at them before you eventually snap. "Get. The fuck. Out of here!" 

They immediately turn tail and head back through the trees. For what reason, you have no idea. The three of them could've taken a single woman.

* * *

 

You make it back to Jackson with a broken nose, partnerless, and a brand new numbness in your chest that's stomped out the newborn fire of will. 

That night, Maria offers you her space next to Tommy because she doesn't want you to sleep alone in fear of you hurting yourself. For good reason. 

He lets you cling to him throughout the night and cry into his clothes, and right before you feel sleep finally overtake you, you tell him:

"I wanna die, Tommy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment cause i've been kinda sad lately and i need friends
> 
> follow my insta for more of me if you'd like: instagram.com/flowerpowder/?hl=en


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, when are you guys getting married?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow hello college is stressful right now but i'm trying my best
> 
> also thank you guys so much for the support i'm rlly excited to get this story started!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i finally bought the game for PS4 after my PS3 broke and i've been playing it nonstop and i know my roommate is tired of me but i'm not sorry (ALSO I CAN FINALLY PLAY LEFT BEHIND NOW YAY)

"I got somebody you might wanna see." 

You hear Tommy's voice grow closer to you in the cafeteria, yet you're too indulged in your soggy broccoli and tough meat to turn around and see who his guest is. 

"(Name), guess who finally showed up?" Tommy says, and you turn around to face him when he puts a hand on your shoulder. 

You don't expect goddamned  _ Joel  _ to be standing behind him, both of you immediately bleeding into an expression of shock and confusion and  _ what the fuck are they doing here? _ as soon as you lock eyes with each other. The girl he has with him raises a brow and nudges his side, but he ignores her.

You don't know what to do, too shocked to move and too numb to feel any sort of happiness. You stand up, and as soon as he starts ambling towards you, anger stirs within your chest and heats your face up. 

You push him away from you, all the hurt and betrayal and guilt from the past few years welling up inside your throat, turning your limbs to electricity and if you don't destroy something you might just explode. 

"You fucking bastard!" you shriek, sidestep Tommy's attempt at reining you in, instead retreating from the cafeteria. 

You hole up in your room for the rest of the day, using the time to catch up on repressed feelings and buried memories and his abandonment hurts so much more than you thought it would. 

You  _ had  _ almost forgotten him, after all. 

As soon as Tommy slips into your room to check on you, he's bombarded with insults and questions. 

"How could you do this, Tommy? You know that I've been trying to get him off my mind for almost five years, and now all that is done for because he decided to suddenly come back into my life—"

"The girl he's got with him is immune. They're looking for the Fireflies, thought I could help 'em. So I ain't got nothing to do with my brother being here." He takes a seat in front of you on the bed. "Joel's taking this just as hard as you, maybe even more. But all I know is that you two got a lot of loose ends to tie up, and now would be the perfect time to do it." Tommy stands up and heads for the door. "He's in the pantry." The youngest brother leaves you alone to contemplate your choices, even though you're throwing clothes on before Tommy can even close your door.

* * *

 

You stride into the pantry with a box full of food to put up, trying your hardest to ignore a crouched Joel also putting up canned food items. 

You're too stubborn to speak first, no matter how much you've missed him. 

"What happened to your face?" he asks, voice nonchalant as he lightly tosses a can of peas in hand. 

"Why do you care?" 

He sighs. "Alright. I guess I deserve this."

You spin around to stare at him, dropping the can of tomato soup you'd been holding. It clangs to the ground, causing Joel to jump, but you don’t fucking care at this point. You want to bash his face into the goddamn shelf.

"You think? You left me without saying goodbye. For the past almost decade, I didn't know if you were alive or dead!" 

"You don't think I ain't been worried sick over you?" 

"No! I don't! Considering  _ you  _ were the one that walked out." 

By this point, the two of you are a foot away from each other and you can finally look at him. He's aged, gotten salt-and-pepper hair and worry lines and exhaustion written in the wrinkles on his face. But he's still the same old Joel, with the same fire in his eyes that you grew to love. 

He lets out a sigh, closes his eyes. "I did it to protect you, (Name). They kept coming after me and I didn't know how long 'til they got to you."

You sigh, surprised when all anger leaves your body with your breath. 

"Joel, I—"

"No, it's—I shoulda told you. It would've made everything a whole lot easier."

You fold your arms across your chest, still unable to be angry after his explanation because you really really missed him. 

"Goddamn right it would've. Fucking asshole."

He ignores your grumbling and steps forward, presses a kiss to the top of your head and mumbles, "Apologies, Hillbilly."

You take in a deep breath, wind small arms around his waist and lean into his chest. He smells like you remember, all pine and petrichor and musk, all completely unique to him. 

"I missed you," he whispers, so softly you don't hear it. His breath barely ruffles your hair. 

"I missed you too, Cowboy." You look up at him, wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, and it's the only hint he needs. 

Joel claims full control this time, necessity and urgency in his actions, as if this might be the last time you see each other. 

The metal frame of the shelf jolts your spine when you stumble back into it, a groan of pain being swallowed by Joel's mouth. 

You can't keep up with him, especially not when he locks the door to the pantry and kneels down before you. Stuttering breaths rack your lungs at the sight. One of the deadliest men this world has wrought, on his knees before you. 

He still waits for your nod of assurance so he can continue, but you decide to go ahead and take your pants off for him, leaving one pant leg on should something happen. He pulls your panties to the side and dives in, uses tongue and lips and teeth to make you gasp and shudder and whisper his name. 

You're so close, teetering on the razor thin edge of release and fisting Joel's greying hair in your hands when he begins using his fingers.

To be honest, you didn't think he could get any sexier, but here you are with that renewed vigor of curiosity you thought you had lost all those years ago. He's made you feel like a girl fresh into your adult years, like you're that naive girl back at Santa Fe who's touched him for the first time, not a fully grown woman who's known loss and love and acceptance. 

You find your release with a mild whimper, almost keel over when you glance down and catch him staring up at you with those eyes and watching your reaction and facial expressions, specks of vibrant green catching in the light of the lanterns placed along the shelves. 

He stands up as you catch your breath, knees shaking from the intensity, and you moan when he shoves his fingers into your mouth, orders you to clean yourself off of them. You shudder, completely caught off guard by his streak of dominance, and you do as he says. 

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and kisses you one more time as you put your pants on, a swell of warmth in your belly at the taste of yourself on his tongue, before moving to open the door to the pantry. He strolls out all nonchalantly, as if he didn't just give you the best orgasm of your life, or since the last time you had sex.

* * *

 

"Did you and Tess have a thing?" 

He situates the rifle in his lap and chews on the inside of his cheek. Tommy had chosen you and Joel for night watch, which consists of sitting at the gates and making sure nothing dead or alive comes through. But you know what Tommy had concocted, getting you and Joel together like this. 

"For a while, but," he sighs, "it didn't last long."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "We had other things to worry about besides relationships. Like not dying."

You run your eyes over his face, taking in the furrow of his brow and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes that make you wanna smile because it meant he knew  _ happiness  _ at one point. 

"My relationships didn't last long either."

"Why?"

You take a deep breath and meet his eyes. "I kept looking for hints of you in all of them. The men, I mean. And most of them ended up getting eaten anyways, so..."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You shrug, a bitter laugh ringing acidic in your throat. "People always leave—"

"—But I came back."

You slam your hand on the arm of your fold-out chair and turn your head to glare at him, anger surging a little too much in your chest for you to take. "How was I supposed to fucking know that, Joel?" 

He doesn't say anything, but you can see his jaw working in an effort to keep from saying something he might regret. 

You can't stop yourself at this point. Having him here is too much. "Don't you dare act like you're the goddamn victim. You had no problem moving on—"

He suddenly reaches forward and grabs your face with both hands. 

"I thought about you, worried myself  _ sick  _ over you every day." He drops his hand to the scar on the side of your neck. "I had no idea what the Fireflies would do to you when you joined them, but I just knew it was something bad. Guess I was right."

You droop your shoulders in defeat. "They tried to use me as a test subject for the cure." You lean down and crane your head up to meet his eyes, fist his shirt in your hands. "You can't take that girl there. They'll hurt her."

He shakes his head. "I ain't got a choice, (Name)."

"Stay here! Please. Don't leave again, 'cause I guarantee this time will be the last time I see you."

"I promise you that I'll make it back." 

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"... Okay."

* * *

 

The girl, Ellie’s her name, turns out to be a little shit, all spunk and sarcasm, but you kind of like her personality. Never a dull moment with her, you have to guess.

Joel pretty much begs you to keep her occupied while he and Tommy go off somewhere to argue, no doubt.

The whole way to the cafeteria, she asks you questions about how you and Joel met, where you grew up, how long you and Joel have known each other, if you knew about Tess, all the things nosey kids love to ask adults. But you can’t be irritated with her because you were in her shoes once.

When she tells you that Tess got infected and died at the hands of soldiers, guilt wells up in your chest when a fleeting thought of  _ serves her right _ passes through your mind.

* * *

 

Ellie nudges you with an elbow when Joel and Tommy finally make it back to the cafeteria. “So, when are you guys gonna get—”

“I suggest you stop right there, Ellie,” Joel says, holding up a hand to silence her.

She sighs, thumps her forehead against your shoulder. “Adults are no fun.”

“Getting old does that to ya,” you say, brushing your fingers along the inside of Joel’s arm when he passes, giving you a heated glance in return.

“Speak for yourself, Hillbilly,” he replies, following Tommy on their way to the back of the kitchen where Maria is.

* * *

 

Shit hits the fan not even an hour later. Infected swarm the place, yet you feel more confident with Joel there. Even after so long, the two of you still work together like a well-oiled machine.

“Okay, so,  _ when  _ are you guys getting married?”

“Ellie—”

“She kicked a clicker in the fucking  _ face  _ for you, Joel!”

You snort out a breath and smile, trying to keep the bitter acid in your throat from spewing out. She's giving you hope in your relationship, which is the last thing you need to have on your mind right now. Besides, Joel doesn't do relationships, and it's held such a negative connotation after the outbreak that, at your age, it feels odd to even think of the word _marriage_. It fucking hurts. “Elles, do you realize who, exactly, you’re talking to?”

“A fucking wall.”

Joel chuckles. “Well, you ain’t wrong.”

When they leave, Joel doesn’t say goodbye, just like before, but maybe that’s his way of keeping his promise that you’ll see each other again.

Ellie gives you a fist bump and tells you that you’re one of the coolest old people she’s ever met, that she wouldn’t mind running into  _ you  _ again.

You really hope she’s right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ILY LEAVE ME A COMMENT CAUSE IM RLLY LONELY
> 
> ALSO TALK TO ME ON INSTA IF YOU WANT YOU DON'T HAVE TO BUT: https://www.instagram.com/flowerpowder/?hl=en


	4. Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go on a heartbreaking adventure, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long ass chapter for the long ass week i've been having
> 
> my mental health is fucked but i'm trying and that's most important

The winter is harsh this year. Scavenging for food is difficult. You huddle together at night with a few female friends you've come to know and watch over the children throughout the day, going on sparse runs to nearby cities and staying on night watch when you aren't busy doing the aforementioned things.

But you know something's wrong. You feel it, as if an invisible someone is behind you with a gun to your head. It's an incessant fear that you can't shake no matter how hard you try to drown it out with recovered alcohol (mostly for when nerves get too much for the adults and a chill out day is taken upon Tommy's orders).

When the snow gets too high and temperatures drop to the negatives, productivity comes to a stop. For weeks, nobody can gather food and everyone is biting each other's heads off from the cabin fever.

You have to go days without eating so the kids have food instead, but you would rather it be that way. You don't mind, no matter how dizzy you get or how much weight you've lost or how many times the severe stomach pain brings you to your knees. After all, you know what it's like to be a hungry child.

Like always, a few people commit suicide this winter from seasonal depression and food shortages. The only thing that helps you make it through without turning the gun on yourself is the prospect of seeing Joel again, no matter how impossible the idea is.

People seek shelter at Jackson, a familiar face within the group. "Leather Jacket” Alex Hackett, your best friend since you were in kindergarten. You hadn't seen her since you got separated in that Kentucky mall over a decade ago. Still tall and olive-skinned and slender, her dark hair is now cut up to her chin—she always used to love how long it was, so such an uncharacteristic change confuses you.

She immediately comes to you, arms wide open and a bright smile on her face. You hug, hold each other tight because _how in the hell had the both of you survived?_

The both of you survived!

You pull away, both of you laughing, ecstatic to see each other’s long-lost best friend still alive.

"You got out, huh?" you ask, and she cracks a smile.

"Bitch, you think a few zombies in a mall could kill me? Please." She rolls her eyes, yet pulls you in for another hug. "I missed you, man."

The scent of copper sticks to the leather of her jacket, and her combat boots are coated in blood and mud. Even now, she's kept up the whole "I don't give a fuck" attitude that was so endearing about her when you last spoke. She always took care of herself and wouldn't hesitate to let you know.

As reluctant as Tommy is, Alex goes with you on your next hunt. She's a good shot, you tell him, and that you two work better together.

The honeymoon phase is cut short when a group of cannibals catch the two of you in the woods. You manage to kill a few, but neither you nor Alex are a match for them.

You wake up in a cage of sorts with a bloody nose and a stabbing pain in your temple. Your friend stirs next to you. It’s dark, the only light shining through the loosened headboards overhead and a window in the far corner of the room. You’re in a basement, and maybe a basement inside a house. The stench of the room is overwhelming, like death and mold and stale air, and you can almost swear that the two of you are sitting in a fresh puddle of blood.

A man opens the door above you and descends the steps with a creepily bright smile, kneels down in front of you and says, "Hello. Name's Mark."  

"What're you gonna do?" Alex pipes up with a scoff, yet you can feel the sickness and fear radiating off of her in waves. "Rape us then eat our corpses?"

He waves her off. "Nah, of course not. I like my prey alive."

You risk a glance at Alex, and for the first time in a long while, she looks sincerely terrified.

"So, what _are_ you gonna do?"

"What we have to do to survive."

A bitter taste wells up in your mouth, and you don't know if it's the copper on your tongue or Joel's own words echoing in your memories that causes it. Maybe both.

 _We do what we gotta do to survive_ , he's always told you, and he's always taught you to survive. You have to get out of this, for him.

When Mark leaves, you and Alex immediately begin whispering plans on how to get out of here.

* * *

 The men sample you, severing the ring finger of your dominant hand to the second knuckle. They do the same to Alex. You try to escape, wiggle out of Mark’s grasp, but the pain becomes so severe that you can only sit on the floor in shock, can only shriek as he slices through bone and muscle with his switchblade.

He allows you to recoil your hand back between the bars and into the relative safety of the cell. You topple over and retch at the immense pain slicing up your arm.

"(Name), they're eating us." Alex’s whisper of horror brings you back to the present. "Oh my fucking god..."

The sight before you makes you vomit yet again. Mark’s biting the meat off your finger like a goddamn chicken leg. His buddy's doing the same to Nora's.

"Not bad. Not bad at all," Mark says, tossing you what's left of your extremity. It rolls under the bars and lands at your feet. Alex kicks it away before you can reach for it.

* * *

 You hear them talking that night. They seem to like the lean “meat” of Alex more than yours.

When all goes silent, your friend turns to you with a look of solemn determination on her face.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," she whispers, reaching down to grab your hand.

You give her an incredulous look and begin shaking your head. "Alex, no—"

"(Name), you heard what they said—"

"—I don't care what the fuck they said! I won't let you get eaten to save me!"

They come back down and Mark’s friend stops at your cell this time, unlocking the door with a set of keys that he stuffs back into his pocket. You eye them. That's exactly what you need.

"Come on, hot stuff," he points to Alex, "you first."

"I got this," she mouths to you before he locks you back inside while she lay on the bloodied, makeshift butcher's table that looked to be quite a shoddy carpentry job. You bet Joel could’ve done better.

The man chuckles. "We haven't had one this well-behaved ever. You got some kinda fetish for this shit?"

Alex levels a sour glare at him. "We'll find out, won't we?"

Mark stalks over to you while piercing screams fill the air. But they aren't Alex’s.

You grab at him through the bars, and he bends your arm at an odd angle, causing throbbing pain to center around your elbow and you to shriek at the almost-dislocation.

Alex strikes him in the temple with a crowbar, causing him to sprawl out on the floor while clutching onto his head. She digs around inside the dead friend's pocket for the keys while you watch for Mark to show any sign of movement.

She frees you, and you both stumble from the room with bloodied faces and clothes, not expecting the lack of people inside the—you were right—small house.

You have no time to process the overwhelming smell of death or the rotting corpses behind you or bodies in various states of decomposition piled up in the kitchen, because Alex pulls you toward the exit just as Mark shows up at the doorway to the basement you had been in.

"(Name), go. Run!" your friend yells, clutching your hand in hers one last time before pushing you to the front door.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to make it to the door because Mark yanks you back by the hair of your head and kicks you in the face when you fall to the floor.

“Get the fuck off her!” Alex yells, the clang of metal being heard, and you sit up to find her bashing the fucker’s head in with a pipe. “You. Mother. Fucker!”  Each word is punctuated with another hit. “You. Ate. Our. Fingers!”

“Alex, that’s enough!” you yell, catching the bloodied pipe when she raises it above her head. “He’s dead. It's over.”

She catches her breath as you toss the weapon away from her.

“Let’s go,” she whispers, attempting to stand up before slipping and falling on the blood pooling around Mark’s dead body.

His face resembles that of a clicker, completely unrecognizable and wrong and where is his nose—oh!

On his cheek.

“Bit of an overkill,” you mutter, helping your friend to her feet and ignoring the blood coating the entirety of her jeans.

“The fucker deserved it,” she hisses, and you can't really deny it so you simply shrug your shoulders and catch your gear that she had thrown to you.

* * *

 Tommy relieves you of your duties for awhile until your stub of a finger heals. Winter passes, and Spring brings butterflies and rainstorms and flowers to Jackson.

Your friend’s daughter, Naomi, gets into a habit of fetching you wildflowers every week with her mother’s permission, yet they always end up in the tight curls atop her head so she can look like a “real-life fairy”. It always makes her smile when you tell her how magical she looks, so much so that a Disney princess would be put to shame.

Your nights are plagued with visions of death and regrets but, if you’re lucky, hazel eyes and calloused hands and words of praise will sneak into your dreams and leave you wanting, always wanting when you wake.

It’s those vivid dreams of nights you and Joel have spent together that keeps you from going insane amidst the chaos surrounding you. Yet some nights your thoughts are so morbid and gruesome—and no you can't help it no matter how much you wish you could—that you get physically ill and have to seek refuge in the platonic arms of Alex. And she’s become tormented and immersed in the Darkness as well, so she needs the comfort just as much as you.

As much as Tommy tries to let you down easy, you refuse to believe that Joel isn’t coming back. You lash out at your friend when he tells you to keep your hopes down because very rarely does Joel stick by his word. But what does he know?

“You're giving my brother too much credit,” Tommy says one night in the middle of an old movie the two of you are watching.

Maria has always been good about giving you and Tommy some space to talk and bond (seeing how he’s been such an important figure in your life) and that night is no exception.

“How so?” you say, keeping your eyes glued to the screen in fear of what you’ll find in his own eyes.

“You know better than anyone that he ain’t above skipping out on people if it benefits him.”

You sigh in agitation, suddenly realizing where this conversation is about to go.

“He won't.”

“Don't say—”

“—He _won’t_ .” You shoot him a glare that screams _shut up!_ and he listens with a defeated sigh.

* * *

 You were right.

After coming back from a particularly lacking scavenge of the nearest city over, you find a surprising lack of Tommy and Maria around the settlement. Usually they’re constantly on the move to make sure everything is doing well, so it’s really weird for them to be completely absent. Dinner time, you have to guess, except you pass by the cafeteria and nobody is there. You catch a passing worker named Anthony and ask where the fuck Tommy is, and he says he’s in his office.

You bring up the duffel bag of supplies to his door and set them down once seeing the “PLEASE DO NOT ENTER” sign on his door, usually used for when he has important shit to do and doesn't want to be bothered.

The sound of an opening door and a hand around your bicep stops you from descending the steps, and you turn to see a grinning Tommy.

“You were goddamn right, (Name),” he says, motioning you into his office.

You kick the duffel bag into the room and jump when you hear a loud kid’s voice.

“Heeey! The lovebirds are reunited!” It’s Ellie, elbowing a weary-looking Joel.

You laugh in disbelief, fist your hands into the back of his flannel when he gently hugs you.

“Tommy didn’t think you’d come back, but I knew you would this time,” you whisper, pulling him closer.

He hisses and you flinch, lean back to look up at him in worry.

“You guys got a lot of catching up to do,” Ellie says with a sigh.

* * *

 “You got impaled?!”

“And you got your goddamn _finger_ eaten, so don’t even try to lecture me about anything.”

You run your fingers under his shirt and over his belly, paying special attention to his scar and the trail of hair under his navel. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away, inspecting the absence of your ring finger.

“This cannibal came after Ellie, too,” Joel says, meeting your eyes. “I walked in while she was carving up his face with his own machete.”

You wince. “Goddamn, Joel. That girl’s gonna end up crazy.”

“This world has already gotten to her, (Name). Ain't nothing I can do about it.”

He sits down on the bed and takes his boots off, tossing them over to a corner of the room.

“What about the Firefly situation?” you ask, notice that he tenses up at the mention of them.

There's a look of turmoil on his face, as if he’s deciding whether to tell you or not.

“They found a bunch of Immune, so they didn't need Ellie anymore. Marlene said they aren’t even looking for a cure anymore.”

You sigh in defeat. “Are you kidding me? So they gave up their one chance at saving humanity? Why?”

“It would’ve killed the person, ‘cause you gotta take out the part of the brain that’s infected and—”

“It’s either the death of one very important person or the life of millions, Joel. You should’ve talked ‘em into it.”

He swallows audibly, and you watch as he clenches his fists. “I wasn’t about to willingly kill Ellie like that.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You care about her that much, huh?” And then it suddenly dawns on you. “She’s like Sarah’s—”

“Don’t,” he hisses, then adjusts to a gentler tone, “her and Sarah are two… _completely_ different people.”

You smile. “You just happened to find a bit of Sarah in her. I understand, Joel.” You run your fingers through his hair. “You need a bath.”

“You tryna say I stink?” he asks with a chuckle.

“I’m sure not denying it, Cowboy.” You tug on his wrist. “There’s a lake nearby that has the most beautiful view of the mountains. We should go.”

“Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Then we’ll need snacks.”

* * *

 You’re at a loss for words. Within the span of a year, Joel has adopted Ellie as some kind of surrogate daughter. You know he’s lying about the whole goddamn cure situation, and the whole way to the lake you want to confront him about it, ask him how he could doom all of humanity to such a shitty fate over some little girl.

You wanna ask him what’ll happen once you’re bitten, if he even cares at this point.

Yes, you've gotten past the initial shock of him being here and have gone to the bitter stage: bitter about him leaving you, replacing you with some woman. You wonder who he’ll move onto once you're dead, wonder if he’ll even wait for your body to get cold.

A splash of water brings you back to the present, and you realize he’s already stripped and jumped in.

“You were right about the view,” he says, voice carrying between the mountains and the scenery reminds you so much of home you wanna cry.

The trees around the bank create the perfect stage of light from the sun, casting intricate shadows on certain parts of the water and making the rest sparkle and dance. Birds inspect the two of you from the safe distance of nearby trees and sing lovely tunes.

Joel wades over to you, and you smile at the water droplets in his beard and chest hair that look like diamonds in the sun.

“You alright?” he asks before dunking under the water to wet his hair then coming back up for air.

You nod your head. “Yeah. Just missing home.”

“I ain't ever been to Kentucky.”

“It's fucking beautiful. The skies and mountains are to die for.” You clear your throat when it tightens with oncoming tears. “You should come with me one day.”

“I’ll mark it on my bucket list, Hillbilly.”

You eventually strip and sink down into the water with a shiver.

“Jesus fuck, it’s cold!”

You hear him chuckle and decide to splash him. He lets out a _hey!_ and submerges himself under the water. Oh shit.

You were right in being scared, because he suddenly comes up behind you and lifts you into his arms, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Joel, I swear to god above, you’d better n—”

You shriek as he tosses you into the water. When you come up for air, you look around to find him inspecting the rock face connecting the mountains to the lake.

He looks back at your approaching form and says, “There’s a little tunnel under the water here.”

After all this time that you’ve been here and you’ve never found that out… “Let’s find out where it leads.”

You dive inside and almost gasp and when you reach the surface of the water. It’s a room built completely out of rock, almost like a nature-made sauna. The room is practically steaming from the warm temperature of the water and the sun shining in from the holes in the “ceiling” that dries the water on the rocks formed like seats. A small entrance sits at the far corner of the room, covered on the outside by vines and other vegetation.

“This would be a good place to teach Ellie to swim,” he says, motioning to the rock bank that gently slants into the water then plateaus and forces you to keep yourself afloat.

You raise your brows. “She doesn’t know how to swim?”

He shakes his head. “Nobody ever taught her.”

“Then yeah, we should bring her back tomorrow.”

There’s a place perfect for a pallet in the corner of the room, so you go fetch both your and Joel’s  gear and lay down the blanket you’ve had for ten years. God, Santa Fe was so long ago.

You nibble on apple slices dipped in honey as you watch him bathe then get dressed.

“Where the hell did Tommy get all that shampoo and shit?” he asks, slipping on his boots.

“That’s my personal stash. I found them in hotels and house bathrooms and places like that.”

He hums, and thus ends the conversation.

You offer him a slice of apple, and he accepts it with pruned fingers. A silence passes between the two of you until you pat the spot next to you.

He lowers himself to the ground with a groan, says, “I’m starting to feel my age.”

You chuckle. “I feel ya there. I crouched down to pick something up the other day and felt like my knee was gonna pop off.” A sigh of nostalgia escapes your lips. “I remember when I was barely an adult. I thought I knew what loss was. I thought that just because my parents and brother died I knew everything about the world, but I was fucking wrong. And I know this sounds cheesy but, it wasn’t until we met that I realized what the fucking world actually _was_.”

He pulls you flush to his side and you lay your head on his shoulder.

There are so many things you wanna say that you don't even know where to start. So you say none of them. Instead you allow him to leave, the words _I love you_ tender and fresh upon your lips as you swallow them back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is something i typed out a few days ago but i thought i would share for the fun of it cause it's relevant: "I just got a lot of feels because at this point, from what I've calculated, Reader is 34 and Joel is 48/49. They met when Reader was 19. THAT IS SO MUCH HISTORY AND SO MUCH TIME SPENT APART AND NOW THEYRE REUNITED and I wanna cry to be honest because ugh"
> 
> i hope everyone is doing well it's late so im gonna go to bed
> 
> leave me a comment cause im rlly lonely
> 
> ily


	5. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ELLIE SWIMS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm rlly sorry for my absence and this short ass chapter but life has been so rough lately i came out to my family and friends and my mom's side had a shitty ass reaction but coming out was the best thing i ever did because i found out that my rlly good friend alex alSO LIKES GIRLS so we've been hanging out and i rlly like her so we're going on a date on saturday i'm so happy right now

The next day, you and Joel are true to your word. You take Ellie down to the lake and attempt to teach her how to swim. You start small, working from the shallow end where the bank is close in case she’s to panic. Joel motions for her to come to him with outstretched arms, the lower half of his body submerged in water.

“Guys, I really can’t do this,” Ellie says with a huff. You can see the sweat bead on the side of her face and can hear the quickness of her breathing. “My chest hurts.”

You rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades and say, “Ellie, you’re fine. We won’t let anything happen to you, alright? Now breathe in,” she follows your instruction, “hold it for a few seconds,” she follows again, “and breathe out through your mouth.”

Her body slouches once she blows out her breath. “Okay, okay, I’m fine. This is perfectly fine, Ellie.”

“Okay, now what you’re gonna do is start with little strokes and get your body kinda perpendicular to the water,” Joel tells her, and you follow right alongside her, helping her adjust to the weightlessness being afloat accompanies.

It takes a few tries of her getting water up her nose, shouting expletives, and going back to shore a few times before she can finally reach Joel.

It’s a celebration. You throw up your hands in triumph and the three of you share high-fives and pats on backs.

“Ready to go again?” you ask her, and she rubs her hands together.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

* * *

An hour goes by, and Ellie has officially got the hang of the doggy paddle. She can’t really swim on her back yet or dive underwater, but you save that for another day.

“I’m proud of you kid,” Joel says, affectionately shaking Ellie’s shoulder.

Her eyes shine as she smiles, and you watch the duo while you start packing up your stuff.

* * *

 “Do you wanna hear a pun?” Ellie asks you later that night as you lounge on your bed before dinner.

She’s taken with you, seemingly following you around the whole day because apparently she hasn’t seen a girl in about a year.

“Okay, shoot.”

Ellie clears her throat and produces a book of puns. _Oh, this is gonna be good._

“Mountains aren’t just a joke. They’re hill areas.”

It takes you a moment, but once you finally catch it you break out into laughter and say, “Nice one, Elles.”

She closes the book and looks up at you. “Has Joel… said anything about what happened at the hospital?”

You shrug. “He said that they found a cure and didn’t need you anymore.”

“But, do you believe it?”

“Sweetheart,” you sigh and meet her eyes, “I don’t know what to fucking believe anymore.”

“Tell me about it,” she says with a huff, then stuffs her book back inside her backpack. “I know he's lying, though. If what he said was true, we would’ve, I dunno, found people like me already, right?”

You completely agree with her, but you don't wanna say anything in fear of upsetting her. Joel would kill you.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

* * *

After a month of Joel being back, the honeymoon phase wears off. He talks about Tess a lot, and it churns your stomach.

You require a talk from Tommy to snap you out of your naïveté. He reminds you that, no matter your history, Joel still made the conscious decision to leave you and you're stupid for accepting him back so quickly. You're a fucking adult now and things have changed—you've changed. It takes you a few days of being angry at him to realize that your obsession with him has blinded you.

But you can't talk to him privately because Ellie’s always around. Not that you mind, considering she’s a sweet girl and keeps you company when your loneliness gets a little too much to bear.

She moves her stuff into your bedroom, grumpily stating, “I’m not doing this for me. I'm doing this so I can watch out for you.” But you know that she has the night terrors and the fear rising in her throat like vomit when she’s alone. You have it, too.

* * *

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” she asks one morning while the two of you are getting dressed. It’s been a little over a week since she’s stayed with you.

“Nope, I didn't. Joel never said anything about it when we used to travel together.”

“It’s more like crying, I guess. Who’s Ross?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “Uh, he’s my—my brother. He died a while back. Why?”

“Well, you cry his name a lot. It's actually kinda sad.”

You sigh. “Everything sucks, Ellie.”

“You’re telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me a comment cause im rlly lonely also chat with me on insta:
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/flowerpowder/?hl=en


	6. Normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pfft! Fuck Joel!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has been in the works for two months im so fucking srry i just keep putting it off cause i feel like i need to fix so much i've been rlly insecure about my writing lately ugh

Even when you had lain together, you never noticed them. Maybe it’s because it was dark and your hands had clutched at his upper arms so you wouldn’t go floating off into a less desirable place. And on those other days, he had always covered them up with his shirts.

But you notice them one night as he changes in your room. Too thin and too close together to be accidental or the result of countless fights.

You grab his elbow to keep him in place so you can study them. A burgundy color. Recently healed.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and it’s really the only thing you know to say because _why_ or _how dare you_ are both options that have no place in the conversation. You’ve heard them before.

“Don’t do that,” he replies, grabbing at your wrist so he can pull away from you.

You don’t want to think about what led him to do it. It’s none of your business. But all the anger and the explosion of accusations suddenly fizzle out, as if a bucket of water had been poured into the cracks of your heart where the fire had begun to burn. Cracks that he had left in his wake.

“I’ve… done it before, too. It feels like—like you can breathe again, for a little while. But then you’re back and you’re more miserable because you have this guilt about hurting yourself.”

You look up to find him studying your face, and he looks conflicted. As if he wants to ask something but he doesn’t.

“When was the last time?”

“A few years ago.”

He nods his head and goes back to what he was doing.

* * *

“I know you lied to me.”

_Oh, fuck. That’s Ellie’s voice._

The three of you had continued to go down to the lake so Ellie could learn new swimming tricks. She actually started to enjoy it.

Today, you had let them go ahead of you so you could pack a few snacks and things for the day ahead.

You pause behind a tree and listen to her rant.

“Ellie, what’re you—”

“That bullshit that you said? About how the Fireflies weren’t looking for a cure? I know that’s a lie. And I can’t believe you. I had a chance to do something for this world, to let go of all this guilt, and you ruined that for me! It wasn’t your decision to make—”

“It would’ve killed you, Ellie! And it wouldn't have worked.”

You heard Ellie scoff. “I know what this is about.”

“What?”

“I’m a surrogate Sarah.”

You hear the crunching of leaves, then a sigh that sounds like Joel’s.

“I couldn’t just let them… I dunno. We suffered through too much—”

“To get to the hospital, and you made the trip all for nothing. So congratulations. You fucked up. But when (Name) gets here, I’m gonna head back with her.”

You step into their line of sight then. “No, you won’t, Ellie. You may be angry at him—hell, _I’m_ still angry at him—but sometimes we have to let our feelings go for awhile and do more important things. You can shoot him full of arrows later.”

Joel scoffs. “Thanks _so much_ for the support.”

You round on him and cross your arms, adjusting your pack over your shoulder. “I still have a bone to pick with you, too, so don’t fucking get me started.”

The three of you begrudgingly start working together so Ellie can finally master diving underwater. It scares her at first, but she eventually gets the hang of it. You toss uniquely-shaped rocks to the more shallow bottom of the lake for her to fetch.

She slowly becomes more and more confident with each round of fetch until she can touch the bottom all by herself.

You and Joel clap and praise her, yet _you’re_ the one she smiles at.

Shit.

* * *

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, J—”

“Of course it wasn’t, (Name)!”

You raise your brows in surprise at the volume of his voice.

“Raise your voice at me again and I swear to God, Joel, you’ll be leaving my room in pieces.”

He stops pacing the bedroom and sits down in the chair at your desk.

“Did you tell her?”

You cross your arms and shrug your shoulders, settling yourself under the warmth of the covers. It’s starting to get cold again in Jackson. “She came to that conclusion all on her own. The kid’s smart as hell. You don’t give her enough credit.”

He mutters, “goddamn it,” under his breath.

“Your fault. You should’ve either went through with it—”

“Which was off the table—”

“ _or_ , told her the truth. That’s the least she deserved.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Then you never should’ve made that decision for her.”

He looks over at you, a glare of contemplation in his eyes.

“I let you down, too.”

You chuckle bitterly. “What a fucking understatement.” But you look over at him anyways, at the turmoil broiling just under his skin, and you beckon him over. “We both need sleep.”

He starts taking off his shoes. “Wasn’t Ellie sleeping with you?”

“She moved on to her own bed. Near Tommy and Maria.”

“Hm.”

It’s weird to see him in actual pajamas for once—ones that you had to sneak into your pack and bring home for him since he thought they were ‘unnecessary’. But here he was, wearing them every night in between washes.

“The blue looks good on you,” you say, pulling the covers up under your chin.

“Can’t say I don’t like the plaid,” he replies, scooting in next to you.

You sneak a cold hand under his shirt and he cries out, earning the both of you a laugh.

The air dies down until the both of you are teetering on the fence of awake and asleep.

“I don’t expect you to just up and forgive me for leaving you like that. You know that, right?”

You curl into his chest in hopes of conducting some of his heat. You sigh.

“I know, Joel. I’m just angry at you. I’m bitter.” You don't want to say the next part, but it comes out like word vomit. “You ever held Tess like this before?”

He lets out a breath through his nose that ruffles your hair. “A few times.”

_He’s being honest like you wanted. Don’t freak out. Just let it go._

But honestly, how could you just up and let it fucking _go_?

“You’re gonna break your teeth if you don’t quit grinding them like that,” he mutters, and you flip over to your other side and move to the edge of the bed. Away from him. He sighs. “Really? You gonna act like a child?”

“Just go to sleep.”

You feel a hand fist the back of your shirt, then all of a sudden you’re being moved back against him.

“I’m not gonna let you fall asleep mad at me, so you might as well wake your ass up and tell me what’s bothering you:”

Cold fingers skitter under your shirt and up your ribs as he waits for an answer.

“You just… replaced me so easily. As if I was an old shirt and you found a brand new one just sitting there.”

He chuckles and you turn to look at him. “You don’t understand how hard it was, leaving you with Tommy. With the Fireflies.” When he runs a fingers over the scar on your neck, you close your eyes and shiver. “For the longest time, I thought only I was able to protect you. I guess I was knocked down a few pegs.”

“Didn’t you say—”

“Yeah, you were in danger, that was for sure. With the people I was running with, if they didn't find you, they went to the person most important to you.”

“Why were they looking for you?”

“I got into some trouble with one of their members, so a few of them turned on me. I started hearing around the zone that they were looking for (F/N) (L/N). Scared the shit outta me. So I had to leave.”

“And telling me would’ve—”

“You know just as well as I do that if I would’ve told you where I was headed, your ass would’ve been there _before_ me.”

You both chuckle.

“Got that right, Pappaw.”

“Don’t even start, Hillbilly. It’s late.”

“Yeah, I forgot. Most of your stamina is pretty well gone by now, huh?”

“Oh, I can show you a thing or two about stamina.”

The fingers on your ribs skitter along the curve of your breast before he weighs it in his hand.

A few moments later, a light snoring starts in your ear, and Joel’s grip relaxes. You force down your laughter and attempt to join him in sleep.

It isn’t but a moment before you, too, have dozed off.

* * *

What wakes you up the next morning is someone poking you in the cheek.

“Joel, fuck off,” you grumble before opening your eyes to find Ellie, kneeled down next to the bed and tears fresh on her cheeks.

You immediately sit up and slide off the bed to embrace her.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

She wipes her eyes and casts her gaze to the floor.

“James shot himself last night.”

You look over at the bed to find Joel already up and dressed.

“I’m gonna go talk to Tommy,” Joel mutters before leaving.

You run your fingers through her let down hair and hold her at arm’s length.

“You okay?” you ask, rubbing the cold off of her arms.

She nods and begins to tell you what happened. “So, James is— _was_ one of my really good friends here. Apparently he got news that his mom had died while searching for supplies, so he just ended it… in his room.”

You don’t know what to say to comfort her. If there _is_ anything you can say to comfort her.

“Listen, Ellie, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I could’ve asked him what was wrong. I could’ve—could've taken the gun.”

You grab her shoulders and lock eyes with her.

“Someone who is suicidal _will_ find a way to end it. Trust me.”

She searches your eyes. "But why?"

"Being suicidal is absolutely awful. At that point, none of your family or friends or significant others matter. It’s all about how you can stop the suffering.”

“And he was at that point?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs and pulls herself up to flop onto the bed.

“I’m so tired of losing people, (Name).”

“Me, too.”

* * *

“I’m planning a trip back home to see what’s left of everything.”

“Ooh, can I come? I’ve never been to Kentucky.”

You pause mid-bite and look over at Ellie.

“Um, Joel would _not_ like that.”

“Pfft! Fuck Joel!”

You have to purse your lips to suppress a laugh, and you lock equally amused eyes with Tommy from across the table.

“I agree,” you say, a hint of mirth in your voice.

“I’m serious, though! He doesn’t have to know.”

You give the girl an _are you serious_ look. “Ellie, he would know you were gone.”

“Damn right I would,” Joel’s voice says, then he suddenly sits down next to you at the table with a plate of food in hand.

The look of horror on Ellie’s face makes you giggle. _Actually_ giggle.

“So, uh, when you leaving?” Tommy asks in between bites to hopefully dissipate some of the tension.

“I was hoping to get there before winter. The mountains are gorgeous with all the snow. Plenty of wood there, too.”

“So, soon, I’m guessing.”

You shrug. “Yeah. Within a few days, maybe a week.”

Everyone goes back to eating and making their own conversations, Ellie included.

Joel rests his elbow on the table and looms over you to whisper, “You aren’t planning on going in alone, are you?”

You roll your eyes and turn to him before you flinch at how close his face is. “I don’t need a babysitter. And I was planning on bringing Alex with me.”

When his eyes narrow, you know what he’s gonna say.

“You think the both of you can fight Hunters off for months? You’re eventually gonna run out of all that luck you’ve been saving.”

“And why haven’t you run out?”

He furrows his brow. “I dunno. But neither of us can keep this up forever.”

“We’ve been doing a damn good job so far.”

“And it ain’t gonna last.”

You huff and finish your last bite of vegetables. “Let’s talk about this later.” Then you drop your plate off at the washing station and flee from the cafeteria to go looking for Alex.

You see her with her new obsession: a bright-eyed woman with skin almost as dark as her hair. The mole under her eye makes you smile.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t (Name),” Alex says, pulling you into a hug. “Why’d you trek all the way to the other side of town for?”

You sigh and rest your hands on your hips. “Joel wants to come.”

Her eyes widen. “With us?” You nod. “To Kentucky?” You nod again. Alex turns to her friend and asks if she’ll give the two of you a moment. The woman leaves. “He fucking left you, (Name).” She throws her hands up. “You always do this shit! No matter how much someone shits on you, you welcome them back like nothing’s wrong.”

The hurt on your face is evident. “He’s different. And I—fuck, I love him.”

She shakes her head. “You could do so much better.”

A sudden anger wells up in your chest. “Who the fuck are you to be lecturing me on relationships anyways?”

“ _Your_ relationships, seeing as I obviously know you better than yourself.” She takes a few steps toward you and furrows her brow in concern. “Do you even know who you are anymore?”

A bitter chuckle resonates deep in your throat. “After living in this shithole, how could anybody?”

“Just don't get it. What is it with him? What makes him so fucking special?”

You let out a sigh and wrap your arms around yourself. You don't wanna bring it up after doing so well with forgetting about it. “Something… horrible happened to me back then, and never once did he say anything bad. He didn’t abandon me, even on the days where I was as worthless as a sack of potatoes. Even before that, he never left.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “I dunno. Maybe I keep holding onto that period of our relationship.”

Alex huffs a sigh then pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry, sunshine. If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re even more of a badass after all the shit you’ve gone through. It changed you, but that’s not always a bad thing.”

You wrap suddenly weak arms around your friend’s waist and dig your face into the crook of her shoulder. “I could’ve said something more, could’ve pushed him away—”

She shushes you. “It isn’t your fault, (Name). You did nothing wrong. _He’s_ the bad guy here.” She rubs a soothing hand over your back and continues to shush you through your tears, glaring at anyone that dare look at you funny.

“Most days I can forget about it, push it to the back of my mind, ya know? And then there are other days where it’s all I think about, and I have this guilt that just fucking eats at me.”

She nods in understanding and embraces you until you eventually pull away.

“So, do you mind if Joel comes?”

“No, but if he pisses me off I’ll drop his ass so fucking fast.”

You let out a chuckle. “Whatever you say, Alex.”

* * *

 Within the week, the three of you are packed up and ready to go for your trip. Your friend Marcus had gotten you an old truck to travel with, the saint.

Hugs and wishes of luck are shared while Alex stands awkwardly against the truck bed. When Tommy gives you a quick hug and tells you to take care of his brother, you can feel the glare she gives you. She doesn't like this at all.

Ellie stops you then, handing over a pun book before saying, "I only managed to get Joel to laugh at a few of these. Maybe you have better luck." It reminds you of the one you used to have when you and Joel just started travelling together. Now you wish you hadn't thrown it in a garbage bin back at Boston in a fit of anger over him leaving.

You giver her a quick hug, then watch as Joel embraces her, as he tells her, "Mind Tommy now. Don't do anything stupid. I'll be back in a few weeks."

"Yeah, yeah," she says as she rolls her eyes, "I know, Joel."

 "Are you guys ready to go or do you wanna stay and chat some more?" Alex snaps, and you and Joel simply share a look of _what the fuck is her problem?_ as she hops into the backseat.

"She don't like me too well, does she?" Joel mutters as the two of you walk to the truck.

"Not a big fan, no."

"Goddamn it. This is gonna be a long few weeks."

"You're the one that wanted to come, Joel."

"I know that, but I didn't know she had some kinda vendetta against me."

"It's a best female friend thing. We get jealous of each other's b—uh, whatever me and you are." You almost called him your boyfriend. How embarrassing.

He chuckles as he rounds to the driver side before the both of you hop in. 

Last minute wishes of be _careful!_ are yelled by Tommy as you leave.

* * *

Alex has been silent the whole three hours you've been travelling. 

You turn in your seat and look back at her to find the worst sulking episode you've ever seen in your entire life. But to be fair, the people you always travelled with never sulked. They got angry and stabbed things.

 "What's the problem back here?" you say teasingly, surprised when she looks over to glare at you, then divert her attention to Joel in the front seat. 

You roll your eyes. "Would you rather drive, then?"

"Better than sitting back here doing nothing."

You see Joel roll his eyes in the front seat. "No," he mouths to you.

"You can drive when we get to the next state. How about that?" you ask, glancing over at Joel to gauge his reaction. 

"Fine," they both say at the same time.

It takes everything in your power not to jump out of the goddamn truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend showed me a screenshot of joel with signs of self harm on his upper arms when he's in his grey tshirt and idk we never get to see how sarah's death has affected him in game which makes me rlly angry
> 
> also i might take an actual break so i can bang out a few chapters
> 
> if u wanna see my declining mental state or just wanna talk follow my insta: 
> 
> www.instagram.com/flowerpowder


	7. When Luck Runs Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns to stare at you, says, “We’re pushing our luck.”  
> You shake your head and turn back to the rain.  
> “Sooner or later, we’re gonna die.”  
> “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not even sorry for this tbh  
> also action scenes are fucking HARD to write

You feel kinda guilty that you and Joel send Alex to do things on multiple occasions so you two can fool around inside the truck. It starts out with stolen kisses and escalates until you’re riding him in the driver’s seat while Alex is scouting a nearby house to stay in. He encircles a hand around your neck, pressing fingers against your pulse to keep you quiet as he coaxes you closer to your climax with words of _how naughty you are to fuck him in plain sight_ and _how good you feel around him._

You both are able to get situated and let the smell of sex die down between you two before she gets back to tell you guys that the house is clear, save for a few dead Fireflies.

You both glance between one another, worry visible on your faces.

“What?” Alex says, leaning up between the two front seats to look back and forth at the both of you.

“We can’t stay here,” Joel says, reaching his hand forward to start the car when Alex suddenly snatches the keys in the ignition.

“We’ve been driving nonstop for two goddamn days. I’m resting,” the woman says, and you heave a sigh when she gets out of the truck.

Joel turns to you. “You do realize that if there are dead Fireflies here, live ones are nearby. And if they find us, we’re as good as dead,” he says, hopping out after her. You grab your bag and follow, wincing at the stickiness inside your underwear the whole way to the house.

* * *

Staying in the house seems like a relatively good idea until you’re wrenched from your bed by a bewildered-looking Alex, Joel crouched underneath the window of your room.

“Okay, you were right,” she whispers. “The Fireflies came back, so we need to get out of here before they can reach us.”

“What did I fucking tell you?” you hiss, dropping to the floor and reaching beneath the bed for your pack. “Fucking dumbass.”

“The window won’t open,” Joel says after attempting to lift it, as you adjust your pack on your shoulders. “I’m gonna have to break it.”

“That’s gonna attract a lot of attention. From infected, too.”

“Do you got another idea?”

You roll your eyes and sneak over to him. “Fine.”

“Alex, toss me that bed sheet,” he whispers.

Oh, no.

“The last time you did this you ended up with a broken finger,” you whisper hastily, then he wraps the sheet around his elbow.

“Not using my hand this time.”

The moment his elbow makes impact with the glass, the window shatters, and the three of you hop through the new exit.

Muffled shouts are heard as you flee to the direction of your car, but before you can make it to the woods, shots ring out. Searing pain radiates throughout your side, yet the pounding of the pulse in your ears and chest forces you to keep running.

Alex’s sudden shriek stops you in your tracks, and you look back. A Firefly has her trapped within the confines of his arms, her back pressed against his chest.

You can’t just leave her! And where the fuck is Joel?!

It’s when she finally calls out to you that you take action.

You flick open your knife and silently approach the man. It’s dark enough that, from behind, he can’t see you, and with Alex’s wailing he can’t hear you either.

You leap onto his back and force the blade into his neck, cringing at the wet sound of his blood spraying from the wound as you pull your knife out, only to drive it back in again and again until he releases his hold on her and falls forward.

Alex lets out a cry of disgust at the blood coating her head.

“Let’s go!” you yell at her, taking her by the wrist and tugging her toward the direction of the car.

You really hope the tires aren’t slashed or something.

You can see the edge of the forest when someone grabs you by the arm and pulls you back against a tree.

It’s Joel.

“There’s a whole mess of clickers surrounding the car,” he whispers, a look of worry out of place on his features, where a usual apathy resides.

“What’re we gonna do?” Alex asks from her place on the ground, clutching at her ankle.

“If you wouldn’t have made us stay here in the first place, none of this would’ve happened!” you hiss at her, kick her in the leg in a fit of anger.

You’re trapped like caged animals. Either die from the dead or the living. You don’t know which is worse.

“Ow! Listen, I’m sorry!”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it—”

Joel yanks you toward him by the collar of your shirt and pulls you flush against his body, just as a wave of groans begin to pass through the trees, carried by a strong burst of wind. Alex falls flat so her body is covered up by the grass as a Firefly shuffles his way past.

“Hey, you guys hear that? Sounds like infected,” the man calls to his friends.

You notice that Joel is holding his breath, same as you, and you can feel the heavy _thump_ of his heart beneath your ear.

“Oh, shit! Clickers!”

You bury your face into Joel’s chest when a mess of gunshots and croaks deafen you.

“Now’s our chance,” Joel says, pulling you past the mess of screams and the sound of tearing skin.

The clickers got to them first. They’re away from the car.

Alex follows closely behind the two of you, even with her broken ankle.

You make it through the trees and back into the field of grass, to a dirt road wide enough for a vehicle to fit through.

Joel helps Alex the rest of the way while you lag slightly behind.

Alex turns back to look at you and grin. “Hey, (Name). You totally owe—oh fuck, watch out!”

You barely twist your head to see them: four runners, a few feet away. You hadn’t heard them over the screams and gunshots.

One of them immediately pounces on you, gnashing its teeth directly over your face. You hold it back with your forearm while you grapple for the knife in your pocket.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—”

The runner collapses at the third stab of your knife into the side of its head. You take a moment to catch your breath, rolling the body off of you before finishing off the final infected that has Joel pinned against the car.

The three of you are covered in blood yet again, and Joel orders you into the car.

* * *

“It’s raining,” you mutter, staring out the window of the two-story townhouse the three of you have taken residence in.

“Yeah, it is,” Joel replies, an uncharacteristic solemnity to his voice.

Alex has already gone to sleep in the bedroom across the hall, leaving you and Joel in this awkward silence that both of you refuse to solve.

“They say rain always signifies something bad in novels,” you say, glancing over at his profile in the light of the lightning flashing through the window.

“Or a revelation.”

“Hm. So, which one will this be?”

He snorts and looks over at you, a sudden softness to his eyes.

“You tell me.”

You want to kiss him. More than anything else in this entire world. He turns back to look at the rain trailing down the glass, yet you never take your eyes off of him. You reach up to trail a finger along the bridge of his nose, follow the line of his brow, card fingers through his blood-caked hair.

“You almost died last night,” he whispers, and you see him swallow.

“We all did, Joel.”

He turns to stare at you, says, “We’re pushing our luck.”

You shake your head and turn back to the rain.

“Sooner or later, we’re gonna die.”

“I know.”

_Well, it’s now or never._

“I love you, Joel.”

His stare towards you feels heavy, forcing tears to your eyes. You release a shaky breath when he rests a hand on the nape of your neck, lightly squeezing.

“(Name)... you know I can’t say it back,” he whispers, and you wouldn’t have heard him if he wouldn’t have leaned in.

“I never expect you to. I just feel like, after last night, any of us can die at any time, and I would hate having this ‘what if’ always riding on me. It’s been eating me alive already.”

He tightens his grip on you and forces you to turn your head to look at him. Then he kisses you. Barely touches his lips to yours for a brief moment before pulling away.

“I should get to bed. Wake me up when your watch is over.”

You need to trim those thorns around his heart, before it’s too late.

* * *

“So, Ellie gave me her pun book in hopes that I could make you laugh since she can’t.”

“You’re not a miracle worker,” Alex says to you, and Joel chuckles.

“Well, I can try. We’re only sitting here with our thumbs up our asses, right?”

“Hold up,” Joel says, “the goddamn road’s blocked.”

You turn around and confirm that the road is, in fact, blocked. Dozens of cars are piled on top of one another. No way to get through.

The car comes to a stop, and the three of you get out to survey the situation.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” Alex yells as she slams the door shut. “Whatever deity is up there is laughing at us. I hope you know that.”

“Our lives are a fucking joke,” you say, following Joel to where the pile-up is.

He turns to you and runs a hand down his face. “Okay, if I give you a boost, do you think you could stand on top of them cars and see what we got to work with?”

You nod your head.

You climb onto the mess of cars, wary of the creaks and groans of the metal.

“What do you see?”

“There are dead people everywhere. Infected, too. It looks like someone’s been here recently.”

You take a step to the side, and as soon as your weight lands on the trunk, the car tips over and you fall to the other side of the barricade.

“Name! You alright?” Joel calls.

“Yeah, I’m—” Your breath halts in your throat at the sound of quickened footsteps headed straight for you. A runner darts out from behind a car, followed by at least a dozen more.

This is it.

“(Name)! Grab my hand!”

It’s Alex. You look above you, at her extended arm hanging over the roof of a car.

“It’s too high. I can’t reach!”

“Well then I’m coming down with you.”

By the time she lands on the road with a sharp cry—her foot is still fucked, the runners are here. You’re able to dispatch of all of them but one. The one that latches onto the fleshy part of your hand before you can kick it away and allow Alex to finish it off.

“Coast is clear,” you say, attempt to shake the pain out of your hand as Joel approaches you.

“Everybody alr—(Name).”

You look up at him wide-eyed, then follow his eyes.

A bite on the side of your hand, right under your pinky. Blood openly pours from where the flesh was torn and teeth were embedded.

Alex stares at it, follows the droplets of blood as they fall onto the concrete. “Oh, fuck. You’re bit.”

Your vision blurs with tears, and a sob wrenches itself from your throat.

“No. No! Nononononononono, this can’t be happening.” You drop to your knees, smearing blood across your cheeks when you wipe at your eyes. _Take a deep breath, hold, let it go_. “My luck finally ran out, Joel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont hate me too badly ok


	8. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't leave it like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy here we go this is my favorite chapter ive ever written tbh

“We gotta cut it off.”

Joel paces around the garage, rummaging through drawer after drawer to look for something, anything he can use for the task at hand.

It’s been roughly two hours since the incident happened. You don’t feel any different yet.

 _“How could you let yourself get bitten?”_ he had asked you, and you had simply cried into Alex’s shoulder.

“Alex, help me look. We ain’t got much time.”

Alex joins the fray, both of them tossing tools over shoulders and knocking things over before Joel eventually throws a hammer across the room with a _goddamn it!_ , shattering one of the windows.

“Jesus, Joel,” Alex says, moving to place a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs her off, opting to head back inside the house. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go.”

Alex waits for you to go ahead of her, shooting you a sympathetic look as you pass by.

When you walk into the kitchen, Alex right behind you, he’s at the island, long butcher knife in hand. You gulp.

“Is—is that it?” you ask, glancing down at your hand.

“I think so. It just needs sharpened.”

“There’s a block outside that I’ll take it to,” Alex says, and the look she gives you as she passes you on the way out speaks volumes.

 _Don’t leave it like this_.

He helps you up onto the counter (after you attempt to jump and feel the bullet wound start to bleed again) and you lay back, staring at his upside down face as he circles around to face you.

“There’s a huge chance I’m not gonna survive this,” you say, reaching up with your uninjured hand to wipe at the blood on his cheek.

“Don’t say that. We’re gonna fix this,” he whispers, lowering his forehead to the cold counter. You can hear his teeth grind together before he whispers, “I love you, okay? So now you _can’t_ die on me.”

A sigh of relief feels cool inside your lungs after holding your breath for so long. He finally said it. Too bad it had to take your near-death to force it out of him, though.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and straightens himself just as Alex walks in, freshly sharpened knife in hand.

“You ready to do this?”

“What? Get my hand cut off? Never, but I have no choice.”

Alex takes a rubber band and wraps it around your left arm like a tourniquet. She searches her bag and pulls out a bottle of vodka, then hands it to you.

“Drink up. It’ll take the edge off.”

You manage to drink the final fifth of the bottle and lay back, watching as your hand and wrist turn purple from lack of circulation.

Ten minutes pass before Alex helps restrain you, even though you’re sure you couldn’t fight off a goat in your current state, with your vision swimming and stomach so so _warm_. You just want to sleep.

You close your eyes just as Joel first drags the blade across your skin. No pain. It’s only when he starts sawing back and forth that your stomach churns. You can feel the growing emptiness of your limb as he severs tendons and veins and not-so-carefully slices through bone.

You pass out near the end and wake up in the backseat of a car. You reach out to grab the head rest to pull yourself up before realizing that your hand is officially gone. Severed a few inches above the wrist.

A bloodied hand grabs onto you, lifting you into a sitting position. Joel.

“How do you feel?” he asks, and by the wary expression on his face, you know what means.

_Are you gonna turn or not?_

“I have a hangover from hell, but no fever or craving for human flesh or anything.”

“Ah, so my girl is back,” Alex says from the driver’s seat, reaching back to pat you on the leg. “We’ve been sitting on the edge of our seats waiting for you to turn.”

“Well, I’m not going to. Looks like we got it just in time.” You look between them and ask, “How long have I been out?”

Alex meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “About a day, give or take a few hours. Lover boy over here was worried sick the whole time, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

Joel takes a glance back at you and immediately turns back around. “‘Course I was worried.”

“Where are we?”

“Chicago. Should be about seven hours ‘til home if everything works out.”

You sigh and sit back against the seat. You’re exhausted, handless, and Joel can’t even look at you. Just fucking great.

* * *

It’s really hard to adjust to things now that you’re down your left hand, especially since it is your dominant one. Of course, you can still carry things, but you always end up dropping them.

This is your current predicament. Joel had told you that he could take the box of supplies for you, but you had refused because your pride wouldn’t let you simply give up.

You struggle balancing the box and your feet up the stairs to your porch.

Apparently the small town you and Alex grew up in hadn’t really been touched by the infected, given the countryside and lack of residents, so your mayor was able to set up a relatively thriving community that had been passed down to a worthy leader.

Alex helps open the door to your house and pries the box from your hands after you had almost dropped it.

“Damn, I missed this place,” she says, breathing in the old musty smell from lack of residence. “We had some good memories in here.”

“Yeah, we did.”

The innocent curiosity on Joel’s face as he surveys the living room makes you smile. He walks over to a side table and picks up a family portrait from your youth.

“How old were you in this?”

You walk up next to him and inspect the picture, a wide smile breaking out across your face.

“Around eleven. Jesus, I had just gotten my braces off and Ross had just broken up with this weird-ass girl he met at college.” The both of you share a chuckle, then it dies down once you see the look on your parents’ faces. You sigh. “Mom and Dad were arguing a lot over getting a divorce, but they didn’t get a chance to.”

“What ever happened to them? You never talk about them,” Alex asks.

“They—” another sigh, “I hate talking about it. But they sacrificed themselves so Ross and I could get away.”

“Man, I’m sorry.”

You look over at Alex and give her a small smile. “It’s okay. Dad wasn’t really in the picture anyway. He worked so fucking much that I had started to resent him towards the end, ya know?”

You look over at Joel and question the weird look on his face.

“You alright?”

He meets your eyes and blinks away the expression.

“Yeah. Just... thinking about some stuff.”

_Liar._

* * *

The man who runs this town, Amory Tackett, was extremely well-known when you were younger. He wanted to run for office for years, but was never old enough to do it. So this job is kinda fitting for him.

“Welcome home!” Amory says, cheeks rosy and skin wrinkly and golden from years out in the sun, as you approach the newly-placed town gates. “I bet it feels weird being back after all these years.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I got everything situated and all these memories just came flooding back.”

“It feels weird not seeing that brother of yours with you. You were like two peas in a pod.” He laughs, patting you on the shoulder. “How old would he be now?”

“Around your age.”

Amory sighs and shakes his head. “There’s so much death, and it ain’t fair.”

It’s silent for a moment before Joel pipes up. “So, how’s the winter supposed to be?”

Amory’s brows raise in surprise. “You from here, too?”

“Uh, no. Born and raised in Texas.”

“Ohhh, yeah I can hear that accent now. Anyway, the winter doesn’t look to be too bad this year, but it never really is so don’t worry about it too much.”

* * *

Amory was wrong. Within a week, the snow had risen to two feet. You couldn’t even step off the porch.

There’s nothing for you to do but sit around in pain and cuddle with Alex. After all, Joel’s been so damn aloof since he confessed, and you don’t understand what you’ve done wrong.

You decide to confide in Alex about the situation and hope that she doesn’t immediately go to him and slice his head off.

“You are so blind. He’s staying away from you because he feels responsible for what happened,” she says, looking over at you.

You sigh. “How do you know?”

She rolls her eyes. “Anybody could see that, (Name). You’re just still shaken up over him leaving.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Talk to him when he gets back from doing God knows what with Amory.”

“Awww, it’s a bromance. Let him enjoy it. Plus, I’ve never known of Joel to travel alone. Like, ever.”

“That’s kinda sad.”

“What’s kinda sad?”

You didn’t even hear the door open, but in strolls Joel, covered in snow and cheeks and nose red from the biting wind.

“Uhhh,” you and Alex look at each other, “watching (Name) try to put pants on.”

You elbow her as Joel lets out a chuckle, then you walk over to help him out of his clothes.

“(Name), I got it,” he says, holding your wrists in his cold hands.

You shake him off and tell him to go fuck himself, that you need to do something or else you’ll go crazy.

He lets you take his coat and gloves, then kicks off his boots and greets Alex with a, “Howdy.”

“How very Texan of you,” she says, moving to wipe up the puddle of melted snow he left behind at the doorway.

You toss his coat over the showerhead and turn around at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey,” he says.

Silence.

“So, uh, listen,” you mutter, and the look he gives you, all heat and intensity and curiosity, makes your stomach flip. “I hope you know that me getting bitten wasn’t your fault.” With every word you say, he steps closer to you until he can reach out and touch your hip, which he does.

“I’ve dragged you through so much shit, (Name), all of it you didn’t deserve.”

“I was willing.”

He breaks out into a smile and kisses you.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“That’s why you love me.”

He chuckles, lifting you up onto the counter before sliding cold fingertips under your shirt and across your ribs.

“Part of the reason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel as if, at this point, joel is finally starting to soften up, with ellie and reader now in his life.


	9. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iT FINALLY HAPPENED FOLKS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> easygoing chapter to get ready for the travel back to jackson. i think we all needed something sappy after those last two shit storms, so i give us this!! the cutest kinda saddest thing in a long time. ENJOY!
> 
> also i just realized that this is pretty much all dialogue sheesh

Alex finds home in an old flame with long curly hair and sun-tanned skin and thickly-rimmed glasses. She’s weird and adventurous, and Alex tells you—to your chagrin—that she loves to have her hair pulled.

“I don’t wanna hear about your sexscapades, Alex,” you say, moving to cover your ears.

“Why not? It isn’t like you get any with Joel having that stick up his ass,” she replies, and when you raise your hand to “slap” her, she shies away.

“I will break your leg again.”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your man. Oh, and it wasn’t even broken! It was sprained.”

“Knock it off, Alex.”

She stares at you in disbelief. “Jeez, you really do love him, don’t you.”

You gulp. “Like I told you, yeah.”

She gives you a smile and moves to tickle you. “How sweet. Sunshine’s in loooooooove!”

You yelp and attempt to hold back your laughter.

“I cuddle you because you’re cold and all you do is mock me!” You click your tongue when she lowers her hands, and you rest your head on her shoulder.

“Once that man of yours gets back, I know I won’t be seeing you for hours, so let me spend time with my best friend, alright?” She rests her cheek on the top of your head, and her soft breaths ruffle your hair. “It was partly my fault, too.”

“Alex, listen—”

She sits up and turns to look at you, and the glare she gives you tells you to shut the hell up and let her talk.

“No. You almost died because I wasn’t quick enough, because I got my fucking foot broken. This all started because _I_ wanted to stay at that house. If it weren’t for that, you would still have a fucking hand, (Name)!”

“My luck would’ve run out sooner or later, Alex,” you tell her, grabbing her wrist, “whether you were there or not. It would’ve just been delaying the inevitable.”

She averts her gaze to the grip you have on her hand, then to your other arm.

“Does it hurt?” she mutters.

“It’s like a… phantom pain. Sometimes I feel my fingers get cold or sore or they throb, but there’s not really anything I can do. It’s so fucking frustrating.”

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

The depression comes without warning. You wake from a deep sleep to find your hand still gone and an emptiness that’s dark and scary inside of you.

Joel rests a hand between your shoulder blades and asks if you’re alright at the sound of your cries, and you simply curl up against him and focus on his warmth.

“I’m in pain today,” you whisper, and by the way he pulls you even closer and talks of good memories, he knows you aren’t just talking about the physical form.

* * *

You feel useless. Amory asks people to go out and scavenge a nearby town, even through all this snow, and you almost volunteer before Joel reminds you of your limitation.

You beg him to stay with you, for Alex to take his place instead. He says that you’re just paranoid, that nothing bad is going to happen to him.

He stays behind anyway.

The snow gives the two of you a chance to clear up some gaps in your relationship. There’s something about curling up under blankets in bed with a loved one, homemade hot chocolate in hand (made by one of the chefs in the cafeteria), that makes spilling one’s guts a lot easier.

It seems as if as soon as the two of you settle one problem, another one quickly rears its head, though. This time in the shape of Joel’s guilt over what happened to you. But you’re determined to crack his shell and soften him up a bit.

“Do you wanna fool around?” you ask, placing the hot chocolate onto the nightstand next to your side of the bed.

He looks over at you with raised brows. “(Name), your hand—”

“—is feeling a whole lot better.” You move to straddle him, fisting your hand in his flannel shirt. “Plus, sex helps with pain.”

You see him trying to suppress a smile, but his emotions get the better of him and his lips curl upwards. It takes your breath away. You smile in return.

“Start smiling more,” you mutter between placing kisses upon his neck. “It makes me happy.”

He snorts. “Very few things are worth smiling for.”

You look up at him as you try to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Am I one of them?”

“Always,” he says with a chuckle.

* * *

The whole thing feels… off-balance. You can only dig five nails into his back instead of ten. You can only please him with one hand. Touching yourself doesn’t even feel right.

More than once, Joel has to stop and ask if you’re okay, because you suddenly turn quiet despite his very enthusiastic thrusts. You assure him that yes, you’re okay. You’re just thinking.

Joel tries to help by working you himself, but it still doesn’t feel right. You always do that part.

He buries his head between your thighs for half an hour, yet you still can’t come no matter how many times you beg him not to stop or how many times you squeal _almost there!_ or how hard you tug on his hair.

The both of you eventually give up and roll onto opposite sides of the bed, an awkward silence filling the room.

“We can, uh, try again later,” Joel mutters.

“Yeah, sure.”

* * *

An emptiness crawls deeper inside your bones, reminds you of how bittersweet peaches taste and how sticky they leave your hands.

Joel knows. He can see it in your eyes when your hands— _hand_ shakes as you struggle to remove his shirt in the middle of eating dinner at home.

_Distraction. Need to breathe again. Can’t feel my arms. What am I doing?_

“What are you doing?!”

You pause, and suddenly you come back to your body. Your lungs are burning, heartbeat so fucking loud in your ears, head throbbing, warmth under your fingertips.

You look up at a concerned Joel, following his instructions to breathe deep, hold it for eight seconds, release it slowly. The burning in your chest dissipates and you rest your forehead against his clothed chest, wrapping an arm around him to ground yourself.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I didn’t—nothing felt real. I was so scared, Joel. I felt like-like I was back in the closet, and I could hear him call me a ripe peach. I felt like a little girl again.”

He pulls you up against him and shushes you, cards a hand through your hair.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. He’ll never hurt you again as long as I’m alive.”

* * *

Dealing with loss is one of the most difficult things one can do, whether it’s the loss of a loved one or innocence or an appendage. One thing you’re sure of is that you’ve dealt with it for the entirety of your life. One traumatic event right after the other. It seems as if that happens to everyone these days.

A week later, Alex comes home safe and sound, to your relief. She walks into the bedroom and plops down her bag before collapsing onto the other side of the bed.

“Hey, Sunshine,” she says.

You roll over to face her and smile. “Hey. Glad you made it back safe.”

She lets out a sigh.

“Listen, Joel told me what happened a few days ago. He said you… dissociated or something like that. He’s worried about you.”

Your smile quickly fades. “Well, he doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been out of this bed in days, (Name).”

You furrow your brow. “How do you know?”

“He told me. Said he hoped I could talk to you and see what was up.”

You screw up your face and raise onto an elbow.

“Alex. I just lost my fucking arm. I’m having to relearn how to do everything. My life has turned upside down and there’s nothing I can do about it.” You lower your head and wipe at your eyes. “It seems like as soon as I get over one tragedy, another pops up, and then I’m reminded of everything bad that’s ever happened to me in my life.”

“All of that was in the past.”

“And I relive this shit every fucking day.” You shake your head. “Just… get out. Please.”

You roll back over and listen to her get off the bed, pick up her bag, then slam the door. Only now can you start crying.

It seems as if whenever you tell anyone that you suffered through trauma, they always say the same thing: _just let it go_. As if it’s that goddamn easy. All that does is make you feel like shit. It drags to you a guilt that brings you to your knees.

The door opens again, and when you open your eyes the sunshine is gone from the windows, replaced with the cool light of the moon.

You roll over to find Joel undressing, the only sound being the rustle of clothing and boots plopping to the floor.

“How long was I out?” you ask, almost cracking a smile when he jumps.

He casts a glance over his shoulder before resuming his task.

“Almost a day. I’m kinda impressed.”

You aren’t even surprised or angry at yourself. You’re just... tired.

When he forgoes a shirt and skitters under the covers, you raise a brow.

“Joel, it’s gonna be cold as hell tonight.”

He shrugs and curls up against you. “I wanted to try out this whole body heat thing. I’ve been neglecting you the past couple of days—”

“And this is you trying to make up for it?” When he looks down at you with a cringe on his face, you laugh heartily and snuggle closer to him, allowing him to rest his chin on the top of your head. “It’s a good start. I just wish you would’ve come and talked to me yourself instead of getting Alex to do it.”

He releases a sigh through his nose that ruffles your hair and says, “I just… wanted to give you space. I didn’t know if I would’ve done more harm than good—”

You shake him to get him to stop talking, because you know what he’s about to say next and your heart breaks a little. “You are _nothing_ like that prick, Joel. You were the one that took care of me. You were there for me. Alex doesn’t get it at all.”

“I just figured—”

“If the next few words out of your mouth are _since she’s a girl_ I’m gonna punch you.”

He falls silent.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, running his fingers along the sensitive back of your arm. Goosebumps raise on your skin.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I’ve led you on for years. It was a real shitty thing to do, but I—I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling. I hadn’t been in a relationship since Sarah’s mom, and look how that turned out.”

You stay quiet and allow him to vent. The rest of the night is spent talking about unsuccessful relationships. Joel shares things about Sarah’s mom, like how they met and how they divorced, how she just dropped Sarah like a steaming pot of water. When he starts crying, you just hold him and tell him that he did all he could, that he was such a good dad and that Sarah died loved.

* * *

Alex finally brings you and Joel to meet her new flame, Amory’s daughter Brynne. She’s very jovial in person, and you smile at the way she looks at Alex when the latter goes off to do something else.

“I’m thinking about… uh, staying here.”

Your brows raise, and your surprised eyes meet Joel’s own.

“Alex, are you serious?”

She shrugs and looks over at Brynne, who’s talking to her father.

“I’ve never felt this way about someone. Plus, I really missed home.”

You lower your gaze to the ground and worry your hand over your wrist. When you look up, she’s staring at you with tears in your eyes. You wrap your arms around her and bury your face into the curve of her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, but… happiness is really hard to come by these days, so hold on to her, okay?”

You feel her nod, then she says, “You aren’t leaving for another week, are you? So we still have more time together.”

You pull away and look back at Joel with a sigh, and a pang of guilt stirs in your chest because you want to stay, too. But you can’t leave him like that, because you know that Ellie is his first priority and he wouldn’t hesitate to up and leave to get back to her. But you guess you understand.

You’re just really sick of always being someone’s second choice.

You don’t talk to him the whole walk back to the house. Your full belly has made you tired, and all you want to do is sleep and cry, though not particularly in that order.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Joel holds onto your arm while going over a large patch of ice, and you look up at him.

“It’s… honestly, it’s not a big deal.”

He sighs and grumbles, “If it’s making you upset, it’s a big deal.”

“No. I’m just really sensitive lately.” You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe I’m gonna start my period or something.”

He huffs and says, “Okay, well, I tried.”

* * *

You pull the covers up to your chin and look over at a sleeping Joel. With a wary hand, you trace the features of his face. The sleep-softness of his brow, the flutter of his lashes, the relaxation of his jaw.

“I really can’t lose you again,” you whisper through tears, carding your fingers through his mess of hair. “I’m so scared, Joel.”

“No need to be,” he mumbles, and you look up at him to find his eyes open, glazed over from sleep. “I’m right here.”

You wanna ask him _but for how long?_ but decide that you should quit sulking and let the poor man rest. You steady your breathing and roll over to face away from him. He pulls your back flush against his chest and secures his arms around you. The warmth of his body makes you sigh.

“Alex is really gonna stay, isn’t she?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“Goddamn it. I know I’m being selfish, but…” you heave a sigh and try to relax once Joel starts quietly snoring into your ear, “I’m just tired.”

* * *

You gradually start to lose your appetite as the days go by. After a few days of forgoing eating, Alex and Brynne stop by with some soup and crackers, telling you that it’s light on the stomach and it won’t make you nauseous.

“I just… don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“You went through someone unimaginable,” Brynne says, reaching over to grab your hand. “It’s a psychosomatic response to trauma. Your mental state is affecting your physical state as well.”

_Well, glad to know that Alex’s new fling has a fucking Master’s in psychology._

“Let us know if you need anything else, okay?”

Alex gives you a hug and flees the room, hand in hand with Brynne.

_Must be nice to not have to pine over someone for a fucking decade until you can finally admit your feelings._

But then again, Joel barely looks at you in public, so it’s like you aren’t even a couple at all. As a matter of fact, neither of you have brought up the topic of relationships yet. It just didn’t seem like a good idea, but now, after seeing Alex and Brynne…

You decide to spring the question on him the night before you leave to go back to Jackson.

“Joel, what the hell even are we?”

He casts a look over his shoulder and snuggles deeper into the bed.

“We care about each other.”

“Yeah, but,” you release a frustrated sigh, “are we gonna spend the rest of our lives pretending as if what happened to us was part of a game of chance? I mean, neither of us believe in that ‘everything happens for a reason’ bullshit, but shouldn’t we take happiness where we can get it?”

He clears his throat. “Well, I think we’re a little too old for the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing.”

“Okay, what about lovers?”

“Too wishy-washy.”

“Uh, partners?”

“Not specific enough.”

“Significant others?”

“We aren’t that old yet.”

“Then what?!”

The look in his eyes when he turns to you makes you shiver.

“How about, uh, I dunno, husband and wife?”

Your mouth falls agape, eyebrow raise in surprise.

Did he fucking just…?

“I thought you said you hated the idea of marriage.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just, yes or no?”

“Yes! A thousand millions times—wait, are you just fucking with me or do you actually mean it?”

“Do you think I would joke about something like this?”

You don’t mean to start crying, but you honestly can’t help it. You swear the angels start to sing and your heart fills up the holes that he had left with something brand new, like liquid gold and soapy water to wash away the Darkness. It’s selfish, you know, but love is so fucking selfish and you deserve to be selfish for just a little while.

He pulls you to him and runs a hand up and down your back.

“Jesus Christ, it’s not that big of a deal. Just… something to introduce each other by.”

But the way he holds you says so much more than that. He _has_ to be strong, aloof, cynical. It’s the only thing he knows how to do that’s always worked for him. But you know that, by hearing him say all this, you’ve cleaned out some of the sludge in his heart that the world has left behind.


	10. Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You seem… different today.”
> 
> You raise your brows. “Different?”
> 
> He scoffs and says, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a good different. You look brighter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on this for what feels like three months cause i wanted to make sure it turned out to my liking
> 
> !!! also this chapter has some sketchy content toward the end (not counting violence) so please read with caution

When you wake the next morning and hear Joel rummaging through drawers, you immediately sit up and call out to him.

He turns back to look at you, then continues stuffing your acquired clothing into a bag.

“What’s up?”

“What did we talk about last night?”

He looks at you like you just sprouted horns.

“What the hell are you…?” He lets his head fall, and he sighs before standing up and moving to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. “You really don’t remember?” He huffs. “I asked you to marry me.”

You release a huge sigh of relief and fall back against the pillows.

“Okay, thank God, ‘cause for a second there I thought I just dreamt it. Too good to be true and all that shit.”

His lips upturn in a slight smile, and if it weren’t for you being so close, you wouldn’t have even noticed it.

“You crack me up sometimes,” he says, patting you on the leg as he stands. “Now get up and get some pants on. We gotta say some goodbyes.”

* * *

 Alex promises you that she and Brynne will come and visit every once in awhile, and she gives you her famous leather jacket as proof.

“If I don’t come by, it’s all yours.”

Amory strolls over with a beer in hand and Joel at his side, a duffel bag slung over the latter’s shoulder.

“You ever heard of that one movie? With the traveling pants?”

“Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” Joel says, and when you look over at him with curious eyes, he mutters, “It was one of Sarah’s favorite movies.”

“Well, instead of pants, it’s a jacket!” The old man lets out a hearty laugh, and you and Alex share an amused smile. He takes a swig of his beer and motions to the duffel bag. “In here you’ll find all the essentials a newlywed couple might need on the road!”

Joel attempts to quiet him down, but as soon as nearby workers hear the words _newlywed couple_ the secret is out and celebration is at hand.

He shoots you a confused look, and you simply shrug.

“Family is the most important value down here, and marriage is sacred. So it’s kind of a big deal,” you inform him before turning to the approaching townsfolk.

“We just happened to overhear that you guys are newly married?”

“Not yet.” You and Joel say it at the same time.

The old woman claps and pulls you into a hug. “I wish y’all a lifetime of love and happiness!”

A few other folk bring the two of you some random items from their homes.

One woman brings a piece of freshly-made homemade “cake” that looks more like a stacked pancake with frosting than anything else. (“When the hell are we gonna eat this?” you whisper to him.)

A man brings you a beautiful knife with a stained cherry handle and a leather sheath to keep it in. (“Okay, _this_ we can use,” Joel mutters.)

The crowd eventually dispels with wishes of prosperity and happiness until the only people left are Alex and Brynne.

Joel takes his leave by saying he’ll put your new gifts into the truck, and then you’re left with Alex’s glare that you swear is staring a hole through your forehead.

“Number one: you’re marrying him? And number two: when were you gonna tell me?!”

_Oh man, you really didn’t think this through._

“Listen, Alex, I—”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing with him, (Name). He’s made you miserable.”

“He can say the same thing about me. We’ve both made mistakes and we’ve both hurt each other, but there’s been so much good to come out of this.”

She crosses her arms and looks you up and down.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Am I—what!? No! Why would you say that?”

“I dunno. Maybe he wanted to put a ring on your finger so he wouldn’t look like such an asshole when the baby came.”

“Well, I’m not. He proposed on his own free will.”

“Oh, good for him.”

* * *

You and Alex part ways with a mutual frustration towards each other. It churns your stomach, because you more than likely won’t ever see her again.

The snow is gone, and the sun is hot through the windows of the truck. It takes seven hours of driving to see flat land again, yet you already miss the comfort of the mountains.

Joel’s stare burns a hole through your face before you eventually meet his eyes.

“What?” you ask, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“You seem… different today.”

You raise your brows. “Different?”

He scoffs and says, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a good different. You look brighter.”

You nod your head despite your confusion and simply shrug the comment off. Sometimes Joel says things that make no sense whatsoever and you’ve simply learned to accept it.

“Are we gonna keep the whole marriage thing between us, or?”

“No. Honestly, the whole reason for marriage is _to_ tell everyone. You get all these parties and housewarming gifts just because you decide you like someone enough to spend a couple years sleeping next to them.”

“Do I sense bitterness, Joel Miller?” you asking teasingly, a smile on your lips.

“You could say that,” he grumbles.

The car is silent for a moment before you start digging around in your pack and pull out a cassette tape.

“Does this ring any bells?”

He glances over to read the label and laughs.

“You and that man.”

“He’s a legend! And you like him, too, asshole.”

The beginning chords of ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ play through the speakers, and the both of you sigh.

“You still kept that thing? Even after all this time?”

He rests a hand on your thigh and affectionately runs his thumb back and forth.

“Of course I did. He’s been with us since the beginning, ya know.”

You run your fingers up and down his forearm and stare at the stretch of road ahead. Flowers are starting to bloom along the side of the road, and the sky is clear save for a few fluffy clouds. No life-changing symbolic rainstorms today.

"This is a brand new chapter in our lives. We could start over if we wanted, have a kid or two—"

  
"Okay, listen, I think it's a little early to be talking kids—"  
  
"I'm getting old, Joel. Your downstairs mix-up probably still works, and I got about a few more years before mine starts fucking up. There couldn't be a better time. Plus, older pregnant women start getting into complications. This one woman back in Kentucky was around forty, and she miscarried eight months into her pregnancy. Had to deliver it stillborn."  
  
Joel sighs and looks over at you.

“I’m more like somebody’s pappaw at this point.”

“Yeah? And when did Hugh Hefner stop fucking?”

The look that he gives you makes you laugh.

“He’s probably still got girls pillow fighting in his mansion in Heaven.”

“Exactly!”

“Still, as old as I am? And after living in this shithole? Yeah, I highly doubt that my _downstairs mix-up_ is any count.”

“It can still happen.”

“Don’t get your expectations too high is all I’m saying. Besides, would you wanna raise a kid in a world like this?”

Even when you were younger, you always had this need to become a mother. You felt that you needed to right all the wrongs that your own parents made when raising you, as if that would somehow help you overcome the problems you had with your mother. But now, with her gone and life as shitty as it is, what’s the point?

“Just… forget it, Joel. It was a bad idea from the start.”

He shrugs. “It kinda was.”

You roll your eyes and turn your back to him, but he reaches over and softly shakes your arm.

“Hey, I was joking, sour puss.”

“I would push you right now but you’re driving and I don’t actually wanna die today.”

He yawns. “Good decision.”

* * *

Lo and behold, it doesn’t take long for a shitstorm to brew and rain down bad luck in the shape of a road block.

“Definitely not military,” Joel says, bringing the car to a stop. “Lock your door and let’s wait a sec to see what these pricks do.”

A man dressed in civilian clothing with greasy blond hair approaches the car from behind and knocks on your window before pointing downward. He wants you to roll it down.

“Joel, I can’t fight these pricks off with just one hand.”

“Goddamn it,” he hisses, “just do what he says. We don’t got another choice.”

You turn and face the man and scoot back until you’re flush with Joel, making sure a leg’s distance is between you and the strange man before you roll down the window and hold your breath as he starts talking about other roads to take.

When Joel fists the back of your shirt in hand, the air suddenly changes to a feeling of hostility. It brings chills to your arms and raises the hair on the back of your neck.

“Joel, just so you know, I think—”

You get interrupted mid-sentence by the man lunging through the window to grip your leg and pull you out of the car. Glass breaks behind you, and you turn to find an arm encircling Joel’s neck. You take out your knife and, while being dragged from the now open door, plunge the blade into the man’s arm.

The blond man throws you to the cracked asphalt and gives a swift kick to your stomach. You immediately curl in on yourself and roll onto your knees.

When the man pulls out a large hunting knife, you freeze.

“Give us everything you got or I’ll gut you like a fucking fish!”

You have no idea how to fucking react. This isn’t a situation you’ve been in before because of your one hand, and you’d never thought that being down an appendage upped your chance at mortality. Do you try and reason with him, or do you just slit his throat where he stands? Neither option sounds too plausible at the moment.

You wait for him to approach you before backpedaling on your elbows. He falls to his knees and drags you to him by your leg. _Don’t resist._ When he raises the knife, you start begging him to please end your life and your suffering. He falters for a moment in surprise at _what_ you begged for, and you take the opportunity to kick him hard in the side of the head. The knife falls to the ground as he clutches at his bleeding ear, and you take the opportunity to pick it up and drive the blade into his chest three times before he can even glance up. He gurgles and spits up blood, falling onto his side.

Your head is yanked back by your hair, and you’re struck in the face with something that immediately breaks the bone of your cheek, then it breaks your brow bone on the same side of your face and you can’t help but cry out. The man lets you go, and you fall onto your back coughing, unable to even whimper from the pain in your face, watching him circle around you and twirl a hammer in hand. Arm still bleeding, he dons a fresh black eye and a deep stab wound to the side of his face.

_Where the fuck is Joel?_

The man doesn’t say anything, just moves to stand over you. You see, out of the corner of your eye, Joel peek over the bed of the truck and level the barrel of the gun from your glove box at him. Before he can hit you again, a shot rings out and a bullet rips through the asshole’s kneecap. He howls and folds in on himself, dropping the hammer to clutch at his knee. Joel stalks over and grabs the guy by the collar before dragging him a few feet away from you.

The man begs for his life, but the anger on Joel’s face says enough. It makes your heart skip in fear. You don't like to see him angry.

“Who the fuck are you people?”

The man pauses his deep breathing to gulp.

“Listen, all I know is we were hired by these people to be looking for you two. That’s why—why we put up the road block. You’d better get out of here before our boys come back.”

As Joel continues to interrogate him, you pick up the hammer and walk over to where they are, white-knuckling the handle. The side of your face throbs, and you can feel your eye already starting to swell shut.

“Who hired you?” Joel growls, and the fury in his voice makes you cringe. He’s usually unnaturally calm.

You both know who did it.

“I can’t say. They’ll—” the man pauses as Joel presses the blade of your knife under the man’s chin.

“I’m not fucking around. Now you can either tell me who did this, or I’ll let _her_ take over and we’ll see just how well you’ll be able to walk without your other goddamn knee. Am I clear?”

He slaps the man’s face a few times for good measure, and the latter nods.

“Okay, okay. It was… it was the Fireflies. Th-they said they needed you dead.”

Your blood turns cold and suddenly all you can hear is the thunder of your heartbeat. Your good eye meet Joel’s, and you can see the surprise in his eyes when he sees what happened to you.

“I fucking knew it. We gotta get back to Tommy’s.”

Joel stands and, after locking eyes with you, nods toward the guy before going over to get rid of the other body.

You flip the hammer to the forked side and plunge it into the man’s skull, and you watch his eyes gloss over. You remove the weapon and clean it off with the front your shirt before tossing it into the truck bed.

Joel comes back and dumps his body, too, before joining you inside the cab.

“You alright?” You nod. “Can you say anything?”

“A little.”

He sighs and takes your chin in hand so he can look at the side of your face.

“Jesus, (Name), I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” you mumble, wrapping shaking fingers around his wrist.

He reaches into the back seat to collect the duffel bag Amory had given you. He pulls out alcohol, a clean rag, and a jar of what looks to be ointment.

“Let’s get somewhere safe so we can get patched up.”

* * *

Joel drives you an hour away from the ambush just to be safe, and the two of you end up in a previously fancy hotel. Now the place is covered in mold and spider webs. But at least it has a double bed.

He patches you up first, observing how swollen and bruised your cheek and brow had gotten, that they had to be broken.

You have to help him with his injuries sans one hand, which is harder that it looks—a stab wound to the shoulder and one to his side. How the hell is he still up and walking? It’s like the man is made of goddamn steel or something.

You take the rest of the night to bring in water from a nearby stream and clean up for more travelling tomorrow.

“How far from Iowa?”

“About six hours.”

Jesus fuck. That still means three or four more days travel as long as everything goes smoothly, which you guarantee it won’t. At least you don’t have the snow to hold you back for a week at a time like you did when going to Kentucky. Spring weather treats you nicely, and you quite enjoy the rain. Joel says it makes his knees act up.

* * *

The next few days are relatively boring compared to what you two have went through in the past, what, ten years or so? You find a few infected, a few humans, a pack of rabid dogs at one point. You make it to Tommy’s within the week. Ellie greets you at the gates with a look of terror, and leads you to Tommy’s office where he and Maria are looming over blueprints of something.

“Jesus Christ, you two, what happened?”

You look at Joel and nod your head to prompt him to start telling the story. How you had stumbled upon that Firefly house, how you had gotten bitten, how Alex decided to stay in Kentucky with Brynne, how you two are married, and how you both got the shit beaten out of you by hunters hired by Fireflies.

By the end of it, the three wear various expressions of horror.

Tommy sighs.

“Well, first off, congrats on you finally coming to your senses, big brother,” he says with a relieved laugh, moving to hug the both of you. “And I can’t believe that whole cut-off-the-infected-bite trick actually worked.”

“What are we gonna do about the Fireflies?” Maria asks, looking between the three of you.

“Show ‘em that we ain’t to be fucked with?” Tommy asks with a grin.

“It depends on what they’re after,” you mumble, wincing at the pull of your cheek when you open your mouth.

“Those hunters already said that they want us dead.”

Everyone turns to Ellie when she sighs and collapses into a chair.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it ain’t.”

“Yes it is, Joel! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be going through this right now.”

“To be fair, ever since that experiment went wrong, I’ve been on Marlene’s shit list. And that was way before you even came into the picture, Ellie.”

“But still, it…”

You move to crouch down in front of her and take one of her hands in yours.

“Stop feeling guilty about being alive. It’s just gonna drive you crazy, Elles.”

She reaches out her hand and grazes the tips of her fingers over your cheekbone. You wince at both the pain of her touch and the defeated look in her eyes.

“Why do I get to live while so many good people suffer?”

You crack a slight smile. “The question that people have been asking since the beginning of time.”

* * *

You should be used to this already. The pain and the tears and the anger and the guilt. It seeps into your pores and gets into your lungs and makes you vomit for hours into the toilet of your house. Tears sting your eyes like the way the acid stings your throat. You can’t keep anything down, nobody knows, your body is deteriorating from years of repression. Where is he now? You still hate peaches. Tommy offered you one once and your stomach had heaveed. _They’re fresh_ he says _it’s peach season_ he says _what’s wrong_ he says.

Your mom taught you that feeling guilty was normal, that being taken advantage of was. You hate her. After all these years. It makes you angry. Makes you throw things makes you yell at Joel because you’re angry. At your limit. Feel like you’re being held down.

You said no said no said no. Mom said nothing was wrong as Dad strangled her against a mirror in the living room. Said nothing was wrong when he hit your brother where bruises wouldn't show. You were the favorite. Ellie was right. Why do you get to live while your brother was murdered? You’ve killed so many people. You liked when you stabbed them and saw the blood because they had hurt you and in a way it was revenge. You didn’t know what for.

* * *

Joel takes the knife from your grip and slides it to the far corner of the room, then pulls you to his chest and wraps one arm around your shoulders and the other around your wrist to stop the bleeding. _You’re safe_ he says _it’s okay_ he says _please don’t do it again_ he says.

 _Can’t do it Joel not strong enough need to die_ you yell.

 _Strongest person I know don’t give up can’t lose you_.

You hate him. You want him to leave you alone. Wish he wasn’t so sympathetic and sweet and when he smiles just for you the heavens open and you find purpose in his arms at the beginning and end of each day.

You need him more than you need the breath in your lungs. You don’t wanna be your mom. Too much dependence cost her a chance at life. You’re becoming her.

* * *

Your cheek scars and so does your brow, long after the swelling goes down. He still tells you that you look beautiful. Jokes that you don’t look a day over thirty and you tell him that he’s a few years off.

Tommy throws a small party to celebrate something hopeful for a change, and he jokes the whole night about carrying on the Miller legacy since his “kids never knew how to swim and Joel’s were so good that it only took one time for him to knock someone up”. Of course, the older brother didn’t really like that joke and chewed him out under his breath when you were busy talking with Maria and the woman who lives next door. But you secretly heard.

* * *

“You know how we talked about kids?”

You look up from the book you’re reading and watch Joel undress. The scars scattered across his back make you purse your lips to keep from crying, if anything else. He sits down on the edge of the bed and leans forward to take off his boots, and you crawl behind him so you can press a kiss to each one before nipping at his shoulder when he sits up.

“Mhmmm.”

“It’s all I’ve heard the past three goddamn days. I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

You chuckle against his skin and drag your blunt nails up and down his back, feeling him relax against your touch.

“Children are innocent. They aren’t corrupted by the world just yet. It gives everyone—”

“Hope.”

You nod your head. “Exactly.”

He heaves a sigh and turns his head to the side to acknowledge you.

“I can’t go through another Sarah, (Name).”

You gulp and blink away the tears in your eyes.

“Joel, IthinkI'mpregnant.”

He turns fully to face you, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’re you going on about?”

You avert your gaze downward and focus on the powder blue color of your nightgown, lightly pulling at the unraveling strings keeping the hem together.

“Okay, so, you know how I’ve been really tired and sick to my stomach since we got to West Liberty?”

“I thought you were just—”

“Depressed, I know. Well, I haven’t had my period in over two months and I’m always regular. So I went to see Celene to see what was up and she asked me if there was any way I could be pregnant. And long story short, I have just about every symptom there is. I should start showing in a few weeks."

“But you aren’t sure?”

You look up at him and go to scoff until you see his face. You have never see a human being turn so. Fucking. Pale.

“Joel, relax. You look like you’re gonna fucking pass out.”

“I might just do that, now that I’m thinking about it,” he mutters, glancing at your stomach. “Jesus fucking Christ, we fucked up.”

You expected a reaction, but nothing like this.

“Listen, I know—”

“I shoulda been more careful. I just don’t get it. Out of all the times we’ve had sex within the past ten years, why now?”

You huff.

“Well, after the first time you always pulled out up until the car incidents, even though _that’s_ never reliable, so maybe we were just lucky all those times. But… maybe this is the universe trying to—give me purpose or something. I dunno.” You catch the purple scar on your wrist on the sunlight coming in through the window. “Given my recent track record, it fits.”

There’s a pregnant pause that stagnates in the air for a good five minutes as you watch Joel think. His eyes dart around, his jaw clenches, he chews on his bottom lip. At this point, you’re ready to burst into tears. What fucking luck you have. You get your arm sawed off, get the shit beaten out of you by two men, all while possibly being pregnant?

“How long have you known?”

“I had a suspicion a few days before the road block, but looking back... I'm thinking the car sex did the trick."

He nods his head and presses his lips into a thin line.

“So _that’s_ why you brought up kids.”

At this point, you’re scared. You know that he wouldn’t dare to hit you, but the thought passes through your head anyways. After all, look at your track record with men thus far. Not a nice group.

“Are you mad?” Your voice comes out small when you ask and you curse yourself as he turns to look at you, to pull you flush against him.

“Not at you, Hillbilly. Just worried is all.”

* * *

Most of your mornings are spent bent over the toilet vomiting up bile, and you had really hoped to be one of the lucky ones to not experience morning sickness, too. You always make sure to lock the door to the bathroom so Joel can’t walk in and see you like this. Him banging on said door and asking if you’re okay is embarrassing enough.

You don’t tell Tommy for another week or two just to make sure that you weren’t mistaken, but Joel begrudgingly tells you that he’s been through this once before and that you are, in fact, carrying a bun in the oven. 

Tommy’s almost jumping he’s so happy, and Maria looks at you with a bittersweetness that waters her eyes. You’ll have to ask her about it later. Ellie makes jests, joking that it only took a decade for you guys to get to the more serious relationship bits. You snicker at that one, and catch Joel in a grin.

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ellie says with a smile, and moves to hug you. “Now come on, group hug, group hug, bring it in big guy. Don’t keep your pregnant wife and small immune child waiting.”

Joel eventually gives in and joins, wrapping his arms around you both. Ellie makes one last joke and the three of you dissolve into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't wanna go this route but the damn characters wouldn't listen. plus dad joel is gonna be so cute i can't wait
> 
> so anyways, a few chapters ago if you remember i mentioned sunshine (as alex calls reader) and joel repeatedly bumping uglies in the car on the way to west liberty. from that point on it was about three months that had passed until they got back to jackson (a month of travel, two months of waiting out winter, and a few days of travel back to jackson). as of the end of this chapter i'm putting her around the 11 week mark.  
> i actually put a lot of hints within the last chapter or two that i wonder if anybody caught on to. i didnt know if i wanted to flesh out this idea but goddamn if my muse wasn't forcing me to, but i put the hints in anyway and blended them into sunshine dealing with trauma.


	11. A Storm is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine still hates peaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lotta info here and i'm happy with it
> 
> also a bit of fluff to tide us over. and much-needed smut.

It takes a few weeks but you eventually start showing. None of your shirts or jeans fit anymore because of the little bit of weight you’ve gained in your torso so you have to resort to wearing cute dresses for spring. Thank God the weather allows it.

Apparently it’s just the month of the hormones because Ellie wakes up to blood in her underwear and on the inside of her thighs. She shakes you awake, sobbing, because she thinks that the virus has finally caught up to her. You have to explain to her that she’s just going through puberty like every kid has to. And that sex is inevitable, which is always a fun topic to explain. It’s also the first time that Joel has ever outright blushed before. He quickly leaves to let you girls do some talking.

You have to show her how to keep up her hygiene during that week, how to wash blood stains out of underwear, how to use post-apocalyptic tampons (Tommy, being the saint he is, gets a wool supply from a farmer nearby every once-in-a-while for that very reason) because you hate having to use dirty rags instead, and when to change said hygiene products. You assure her that she’ll get both used to and annoyed by the blood very quickly.

You’ve noticed that she’s an extremely curious girl and she likes to ask a ton of questions. When hormones kick in, however, she shuts herself off and cries a lot.

Joel worries over her like a lost puppy, and _he_ comforts her as she cries or gets angry when _you’re_ too busy either throwing up or crying and getting angry yourself.

Ellie eventually goes back to her normal teenage self, whereas your mood swings become so commonplace that Joel just lets you yell at him about leaving his shoe in the doorway or not washing a plate in the sink.

He even entertains your new habit of walking around the house without a shirt because just the fabric against your nipples makes you cry because it’s so painful. Not that he would complain anyway. When you brush by him, he stops you with a light hand on your belly and presses a kiss to your neck. You always end up turning to putty in his hands.

* * *

Everyone that’s gotten word of your pregnancy treats you like a delicate little flower, and while most of the time you don’t mind, having Joel put your socks on one morning because your back hurts makes you want to kick him in the face. Your belly isn’t even big yet!

But you can’t deny that watching him flock to you like a mother hen when you get dizzy or nauseous is the most precious thing in the world.

The fleeting looks Maria gives you as you pass by start to annoy you, for the fact that she won’t just come up and tell you what’s bugging her. You eventually catch up with her in your cute little dress and boots and pull her off to the side.

“Maria, what’s been your problem with me lately?” you whisper.

“I don’t what you’re talking about.”

“We’re both grown ass women. Stop playing this game.”

She heaves a sigh and averts her gaze to her shoes, crossing her arms.

“I can’t have kids. The _one thing_ I’ve been wanting for so long and I—it’s not even Tommy. It’s me, too. I mean, he’s been so sweet about the whole thing and he even said that if I wanted I could get pregnant by someone else but… I can’t even get pregnant at all.”

You understand now. It brings tears to your eyes, and you abruptly hug her with your good arm. Your eyes widen when she reciprocates and buries her face into the crook of your neck. You think you hear sniffles.

“It’s alright, Maria. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

She pulls away and wipes angrily at her eyes, hurt still evident in them.

“Just don’t take what you have for granted.”

You look down at your slightly protruding belly and run your palm over the fabric of your dress.

“Can I touch it?”

You look up at her outstretched hand and smile, pulling her to you. When her hand lands on your belly, she looks at you and quirks up the corners of her mouth.

“Celene said I won’t be feeling anything for another two months,” you tell her. “I can’t wait, though.”

“Me neither.” She laughs. “Joel keeps saying how you’re just glowing. Tommy’s never seen him worry this much, even over Sarah’s mom.”

Her hand drops and you see her transform back into the fierce, stoic leader you’ve always known her to be.

* * *

In between side effects and being babied over, you find time to sneak away into an abandoned warehouse roughly an hour from the settlement where you hear whisperings of Fireflies huddled up in there. Tommy doesn’t take any action, simply writing you off as a paranoid pregnant woman, which only makes the argument worse.

Your own horse, June (named by Ellie after Johnny Cash had passed away), accompanies you to make traveling easier. You find blood trails and left behind name tags, but nothing about a possible assault on Jackson.

Until one day, you seemingly catch the inhabitants while they’re out, so you venture inside and sneak up to the second floor. Inside are three bodies, blood freshly pooled on the floor. Your stomach heaves, but you will yourself to not throw up. At least on the floor. You have to swallow down the bitter rise of acid in your throat.

After seeing the executions, you rush about to hopefully find something on the group, something that you can bring back to warn your settlement about impending danger. Are they a ragtag group of Fireflies hell-bent on getting revenge for what happened to Marlene? Or are these people the real fucking deal? You don't know which one is worse.

You grab a notepad sitting on a table in what looks to be a makeshift office before the front doors creak open. You panic, diving into a nearby locker and quietly closing it before a man and woman come stumbling inside the room, clearly bloodied and disheveled. The woman slams the door and rounds on the man.

“Are you shitting me? After all the work we’ve done, after how far we’ve come, and you make this big of a fucking mistake?”

“Jess, listen. They weren’t even that important—”

“If Tommy is anything, he’s observant. He’ll know that his own people are gone, and then it’ll get traced back to us. We need to leave by tonight.”

“What about that one prick and his girl?”

“Fuck ‘em. You know that one chick Marlene used to talk about all the time? The failed experiment? Yeah, she’s pregnant. With his kid.”

 _How the fuck do they—they must have people on the inside. Of-fucking-course!_ You almost pop out and say something, but manage to keep your feet in place despite the urge to move.

The man scoffs. “Wow. He goes from being a cold-blooded killer to a dad, just like that.”

The woman moves over to the table and brushes her fingers over where her notepad used to be. You gulp, tightening your fingers around the object.

“Hey, Mark? You seen my notes?”

He looks up from the map he’s inspecting to glare at her. “No. Check upstairs. You probably put ‘em somewhere and forgot like you always do.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

_Please God both of you leave I feel like I’m gonna suffocate._

“Meet me in my room and I’ll do just that.”

_Oh. Well. Alright._

She chuckles low in her throat and says, “That’s against the rules, Mark. You know that.”

You raise your brows. You didn’t think that you’d ever witness a blooming love story between two Fireflies.

“Nobody’s here, are they? And they won’t _be_ here for another hour.”

What follows is the most uncomfortable thing you’ve ever witnessed. Not because sex grosses you out, not by any means, but because it’s such an intimate moment between two people that you feel guilt swirl in your gut for intruding. Not even closing your eyes and plugging your ears can keep the couple’s moans and filthy words from filtering into your brain. And then the swirl in your belly isn’t simply guilt, but something warm, that brings a sweat to your brow and makes you push your thighs together.

Jeez, you need to get out and away from this place.

You wait for the two to fall asleep, cuddling quite adorably, before you sneak out and back to June. She whinnies as you approach, happy to see you, and you quickly mount her and head back to Jackson, notebook in hand.

* * *

Although you _should_ head immediately to Tommy and tell him what you’ve found, you seek out Joel instead. He’s out at the shooting range with Ellie, helping her practice her aim and showing her how to grip different guns should the need arise.

They both hear you approach and turn to look at you. Joel glances at the object in your hand and says, “Well, I ain’t seen you for a while. Where ya been?”

“Can I talk to you in private?”

His brow furrows and his gaze turns wary as he watches you shift from foot to foot.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just want some alone time. That too hard to ask?”

Ellie grins and says, “Go tend to your wife’s needs. I’ll be around when you wanna keep practicing.”

You narrow your eyes at her and she laughs before, as Joel is turned away from her, giving you a hand motion that she should _not_ know at her age. You gasp in outrage as she laughs, doubling over.

Joel pulls you away and leads you back to the house, which isn’t far from the range.

You make it inside and kick off your shoes, leading him to the bedroom.

“(Name), everything okay?”

You push him backwards and his knees buckle, causing him to fall back onto the bed with an _oof._ He moves back to prop himself up against the pillows at the head of the bed.

“I know I haven’t been in the mood at all lately, but something about today has had me… ravenous.”

He lets out a laugh of disbelief as you straddle him, then he slides the palms of his hands up your thighs to hike up your dress.

“I’m not necessarily complaining.”

“Any other time I would try to tease you, but number one: I’m too tired, and number two: I _really_ need this.”

“You and me both,” he grumbles, helping you shed your underwear from the awkward angle before releasing himself from his jeans.

You lean down to bury your face into his neck as he lowers you down onto him.

This is nice. Pleasure and closeness are all you need at the moment, and you’re getting them both.

He guides you with a warm hand on your hip, using the other to squeeze your breast through your dress. He latches his lips onto the side of your throat and suckles at the skin, covering your flesh in bruises.

You whisper nonsense and moan breathlessly into his ear once he hits a place inside you that makes you see stars and creates a numbness that radiates outward from your belly.

From far away, you hear a knocking.

“Joel, I—fuck, I think I h-hear something. I think there’s someone at the—oh, _god_ —door.”

He pulls away from your neck to whisper into your ear, “I don’t hear anything.”

Someone starts _banging_ at the door, and you both curse every deity there is as you attempt to look presentable before Joel answers it, leaving you behind in the bedroom. You hear Tommy’s muffled voice, and he sounds panicked.

Fuck. You forgot about the Firefly situation.

You head into the living room where the two brothers are, Tommy pacing in circles as he rants.

You shoot Joel a questioning look, but he just shrugs.

“Out of all the people I woulda thought, Edwin was at the complete bottom of my list! The Fireflies could be on their way right now for all we know.”

You let out a sigh and reach him the notebook.

“I did some snooping and found a warehouse where a few Fireflies are holed up in. They had killed some people that lived here, and I found that notebook.”

“You went in Firefly territory? By yourself?” You roll your eyes once Joel starts getting all mother hen on you. “With your condition—”

Tommy, being the saint he is, moves to the kitchen while the two of you start to argue.

“I’m pregnant! It’s not like I have a physical illness.”

“Technically you do. And you’re down a pretty important body part to boot.”

You huff at him.

“Be mad at me all you want, but I was tired of being written off a paranoid just because of my _condition,_ ” you hiss, pushing against his chest. He stumbles back and looks at you, surprised. “Maybe next time you should fucking listen to me and I wouldn’t have to go out and be reckless!” You scoff. “Do you not realize what’s at stake here? Hundreds of people versus little old me. You gotta look at the big picture.”

“These hundreds of people, (Name), aren’t carrying my kid so I could care less about them. _You_ are what matters.”

“What about Tommy and Maria and Ellie?” you ask, and he throws his hands up.

“They’re in a completely different category—that’s kind of a given—so I dunno why you’re even bringing that up.”

Tommy comes back into the living room, flipping through Jess’s notes.

“So, apparently they’re after Joel for what he did to Marlene.”

He looks up at his brother, and the coldness in his eyes makes you wary. You really don’t want to break up a fight between two large men.

“They were gonna kill Ellie. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not kill the leader of a goddamn rebel group!” Tommy turns to you and you flinch, not really ready to face his wrath. “Did you know about this?”

“I… I did.”

“Does Ellie know?”

“She suspects as much,” you say, fiddling with the fabric of your dress.

At the moment, you feel completely vulnerable. There isn’t much you can do besides _yell_ at your enemies. Or, if they have emetophobia, you can get a whiff of onions and throw up on them. Other than that, you’re just cannon fodder when it comes to actual lethal confrontation.

“Oh, Jesus, Joel. I hope you realize just how much you’ve fucked us over.”

“I didn’t think they would follow us.”

“They’ve been tracking you since you left for West Liberty!”

Tommy does have a point.

“Well, there’s no sense on dwelling. I guess we’re just gonna have to wait it out,” you say with a large sigh.

* * *

The next few weeks are spent in a stasis of worry. Everyone is always on edge, you especially. Tommy ends up telling Ellie exactly what happened, and she completely avoids Joel altogether. With that being said, Tommy and Joel are always at each other’s throats, you and Maria being the buffers between them to keep them from brawling in the middle of a group of people.

Your morning sickness has finally stopped plaguing you, and gets replaced by the most odd cravings, such as ice, and strawberries dipped in peanut butter of all things. Everyone doesn’t tiptoe around you anymore given your better mood and “heavenly glow,” as Celene describes it.

Tommy forces you to stay inside given the constant fear of attack, though you have to complain because physically you’ve felt better than you have in months. He does let you tend to the gardens a few minutes away from your house. Taking care of plants grows to be extremely soothing to you, and a welcome distraction from the shit storm currently brewing.

“So, how are things with the baby?”

You look over to find an elderly woman lowering onto her knees before the garden, cheeks a blushing brown like the calla lillies before her. She slips on some gloves and begins to de-weed the soil.

“Uh, good. The only thing I can really complain about are the backaches and the weird dreams.”

“Those things only get worse the more you go along,” she says, and when she smiles the corners of her eyes crinkle up. “You know, before all this came about, I had three kids of my own.”

“Really? Tell me about ‘em.”

“Well,” she says with a sigh, “there was Savannah, Donald, and Brenda. Two years difference between each.”

You whistle low and reach for the clippers. There’s a beautiful daisy that catches your eye.

“How did you do it?”

“I couldn’t have made it through without my husband. Even after he worked all day, he would come home and help me clean up around the house.” She smiles. “He would even read the kids a story before bed.”

“What happened to them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She looks over at you and glances down at your arm, where your hand should be.

“We got too careless one night and those damn infected weaseled their way into the house. I was the only one that made it out.” She starts to cry, silent and so overcome with hurt that it makes _your_ chest ache. You reach over and hug her to you, and she sobs into your shoulder.

She pulls away after a long moment and wipes her eyes, says, “That baby is gonna save us, just you wait.”

She stands up, collects her basket full of weeds, and walks off.

* * *

Hunching over does nothing for your back, and soon enough you start to ache like no other. Ellie had joined you and helped gather some daisies that hadn’t yet bloomed for you to put in the windowsill of your bedroom.

She helps you stand and makes sure you don’t fall when you begin to stumble around from the change in perspective.

“Do you think you’ll talk to Joel again?” you ask, as the two of you lock arms and head to your house.

“No. Maybe…" she sighs, "Yeah. I’m just so, ugh, angry at him, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you can’t be mad at him forever.”

“I can try.”

“It’s really unhealthy. Forgiveness is ideal, but even that is near-impossible.”

She scoffs. “What would you know about forgiveness?”

You glance up (wow, when did she get that tall??) at her and sigh. No, you can’t tell her.

“When did you get that tall? It looks like you’ve grown at least three inches within the past few months.”

“That explains why I’ve been eating everyone “out of house and home” as they like to put it.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to come stay with us. Joel misses you.”

“Bullshit—”

“ _Ellie,_  he does.”

The girl turns her head to stare at you with a hint of mirth in her eyes.

“You know, you already got that whole stern Mom voice down pat.”

The both of you laugh, and for a second everything seems alright in the world. You invite Ellie inside and put on some tea to drink before starting on a snack.

“What would you like to eat? We have… a lot of peanut butter and some… fruit.” She lifts one brow and gives you a curious look. “I have cravings, okay?”

“That is adorable.”

“It is not adorable. It’s annoying.”

“Before long you’re gonna be waddling like a penguin.”

You look up from chopping apples to see Ellie shuffling around the living room with her hands and feet angled up and out.

“Do penguins make noises?” she asks.

“Uh, I dunno. Go ask Joel. He seems like he would know that kinda stuff.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” she says with a laugh.

You set down her plate, and she immediately runs over.

“Thanks, (Name). I’m starving.”

You sit down next to her and fiddle with the skin on an apple slice.

“Joel should be home in a few, so you can either hurry up and eat or wait for him to get here so the two of you can talk it out.”

She sighs and pops an apple slice globbed in peanut butter into her mouth.

“I’ll just wait.”

“Good idea.”

He strolls in a few minutes later, surprise furrowing his brow once he sees Ellie sitting at the counter.

“Ellie?”

She swallows her bite and says, “Hey, Joel.” Her voice is… light and neutral, not full of rage or bitterness like you thought it would be. Maybe what you said stirred something within her.

You nod your head in greeting, a bright smile on your face, before you practically dance out the back door to give them space to talk.

Seeing as you aren’t able to venture too far due to the impending doom still holding the whole settlement inside a bubble of fear, you decide to simply walk around and see if you can eavesdrop on some juicy gossip since Tommy has left you in the dark about all things bug-related.

You circle around a house to head back, disappointed that you didn’t catch even a whisper of what Tommy was planning against the Fireflies, specifically the ones that had hid amongst his people so well.

A whistle stops you in your tracks, even though your mind yells at you to _keep going this could be a trap think of the baby!_ It sounds like what you would call a dog with, yet you seem to be the only one around. Plus, there aren’t many dogs here.

It sounds again, and this time you turn in place to see where it’s coming from. A girl huddles behind an abandoned swing, beckoning you over with a tiny hand. Your eyes seemingly clear up as you search for any sign of an ambush, and you almost chuckle aloud when you compare yourself to a hawk looking for potential prey.

“Psssst, hurry! We don’t have much time!” the girl whisper-yells, and the look of impatience and fear on her face causes your feet to move. The closer you get, the realization hits you. Naomi! “You’re in trouble. A couple of men came through here looking for you not too long ago.”

Your blood runs cold, yet you swallow down your fear as to not scare her.

“Fireflies?”

She shrugs.

“Not sure, but they looked really scary. Want me to walk you home?”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

“Yeah but you’re…” she looks down at your stomach, then over at your absent hand, “weak.”

Your mouth drops and your eyebrows raise before you quickly compose yourself. Man, you really are at a disadvantage.

“Gimme a sec. There’s a guy with a walkie-talkie over there. Maybe you can call someone to come get you?”

The wide-eyed look on her face bleeds innocence and compassion, and you simply smile against oncoming tears. She only has a few more years before her hope is snuffed out by the Darkness. Just like yours had been.

“Okay.”

She’s off before you can finish the word, and back before you can count to fifty.

You have no idea what the proper walkie-talkie etiquette is, so you simply press the button and say Tommy’s name, then, “over?”

A chuckle rings through the speakers, and you sigh.

“(Name), what the hell’re you doing with one of these things?”

“Listen, I’ve gotten myself into... a bit of a pickle. How far away are you?... Over?”

“You don't have to keep saying that, and I’m kinda busy at the moment. How important is it?” His tone of voice sounds suspiciously like _when are you not getting yourself into fucking pickles?_ and it makes you wince.

Naomi immediately starts rambling about what she saw, making motions with her hands and exaggerated expressions even though Tommy can’t even see her. She finishes and it takes a long minute before he responds.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Is the shitstorm ever gonna pass?” he grumbles.

“I’m afraid not. So, what do you want me to do?”

“Keep that thing with you on your way back home. If there’s a problem, I want you to tell me ASAP, alright?”

“Will do.”

The long silence is telling. He wants to tell you something.

“Just... be careful, please. All I need is Joel down my back for something else.”

You thank Naomi for her information and start on your walk back home. Your hackles immediately raise, and your eyes dart around as anxiety fills your chest with cement.

“By the way, I thought Ellie already knew what happened.”

“Well, because Joel is Joel, he left some stuff out that was kinda important, just to save his own ass.”

You make a sharp turn down an alley between two houses and grip tighter onto the device. There are eyes on your back that _won’t stop looking._

“Yeah, leave it to Joel,” you say with a nervous laugh, then lower your voice to whisper, “I feel like someone’s watching me.”

“It might just be—”

“Stop acting like I’m fucking—”

The walkie-talkie is suddenly wrenched from your hand and thrown to the ground. You round on your stalker and the breath leaves your lungs once you see who it is.

“Hey, _Peaches._ Long time, no see, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bad person forgive me


	12. Facing Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your heart beats in your ears.  
> Peaches peaches peaches.  
> The Darkness suffocates and pulls you into yourself.  
> Blood.  
> Who’s screaming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of violence so be careful

Before you can take off into a sprint, he curls his arms around your breasts and yanks you to him, successfully knocking the breath from your lungs when your back hits his chest. You kick and scream as he pulls you back into the shadows and away from prying eyes.

He encircles his arm around your throat and silences you.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to fucking Christ I’ll kill you right now!”

When you feel something sharp being pressed against the top of your belly, you whimper, but manage to hold your breath and stay silent.

“I want you to listen at what’s gonna happen here. You’re gonna get us outside this shithole, I’m gonna take you back to the warehouse, and we’re gonna have a little chat, alright?”

He tightens his arm around your neck, and you can only manage a strained, “Yes.”

He lets you go, and your body immediately starts racking with coughs. When he leans over to try and soothe you with a hand on your back, you almost vomit, but choose to slap it away with a, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

He herds you through the alleys and streets of Jackson, careful to not cross anyone’s path that would know you’re in distress. Tough luck, seeing as just about _everyone_ thinks you’re in constant distress.

When you get to the gates, you’re greeted by a face you’re extremely unfamiliar with, which is completely unheard of. Unless…

“Well fuck me running, look who it is!” His voice grates against your ears, makes you grit your teeth and grind your molars to keep from hitting him. Oh, you could, but you aren’t planning on dying today. “Do me a solid and let us through?”

The man lets out a quick nod and lowers his gun.

“You have fun out there, alright?” the man says as the other… asshole passes through the gates with you unharmed. You can’t say his name.

The thought immediately makes you sick. _Have fun_ the fucker says. They knew each other.

The prick frog-marches you away from Jackson for a few minutes before spotting a car a little ways away. He sighs in relief, taking you to the passenger side (before carefully buckling you in) and driving off to the warehouse.

He tries to touch you on the thigh, the shoulder, the sensitive flesh of your wrist where your hand used to be. Every time you pull away, and every time a feeling of sick churns your stomach, and every time he clicks his tongue and says, “Peaches,” all drawn out, as if you should be guilty for something.

“I missed you, ya know. We had something special, me and you,” he says, a barely-masked venom in his voice.

When he pulls onto the side of the road, your hackles raise. _Getthefuckoutofthere!_

Before you can even turn to face the door, he grabs you by the back of the head and bashes your face into the dashboard. When he hears you crying, he pulls you against him and soothes a hand through your hair.

“Listen, I hate hurting you, but no funny business, alright? Can you promise me that?”

You nod your head, cringing at the pain in your neck.

“I wish I could trust you but,” he shakes his head, “nothing personal.”

He pulls you away from his chest and hits you with something that _fucking hurts_ then forces your vision into darkness.

* * *

When you wake, you’re on your side with your arms and feet bound together, the former behind your back in the most painful manner that it makes your eyes water. You try to raise your head, but an incessant pounding finds its place behind your forehead and will not leave. A stream of blood runs into your ear and you shake your head to stop the tickling sensation.

A door opens, then light, then bloodied knuckles brush against your cheek. You’re rolled into a sitting position before your captor hooks an arm around your shoulder and under your knees, carrying you to another room.

“Christ, you’ve gotten fat.”

“No. Pregnant,” you slur, head seemingly filled with cotton. “Thirsty.”

He sets you unceremoniously onto a chair before offering you a glass of water… Only to throw it in your face. You sputter and wince, unable to wipe your eyes to clear them.

“ _That_ was for leaving me,” he growls, and you manage to open your eyes long enough to see him pulling up a chair in front of you. It creaks as he sits, long and groaning, and you can only hope that the thing breaks and he goes sprawling out along the floor.

This reminds you suspiciously of when Joel would interrogate people to get information.

He pulls out a knife, yet instead pulls you forward and cuts you free of your ties. Your feet are still bound.

“I just wanna talk,” he says, tossing the weapon into a corner of the room behind you then showing his hands in surrender.

You gulp, the pounding in your forehead making you unable to think clearly about anything.

“Listen, I know this isn’t ideal for a first date, but—”

“I’m married, Garrett.” You say it slow as to not offend him, as if you’re teaching a child to talk.

“You got a certificate?”

“Those are pretty hard to come by these days.”

“Then it doesn’t mean shit.”

You try your hardest not to grin, but you can’t help it.

“You really think he’s just gonna let me go? No fuss? He _will_ find you and he will skin you al—”

Your head whips to the side before pain blooms out on your cheek, and then you realize that he slapped you across the face. It takes everything in your power not to bite out his jugular.

“After everything I’ve done to track you down so we can be together and _this_ is how you talk to me?”

Great. Just great. You’re dealing with a delusional psychopath.

You turn to look at him and narrow your eyes.

“How _did_ you find me?”

“You remember the settlement where we met?” Your blood runs cold and you lower your head, and he pulls you to his chest, runs a clammy palm up and down your back. “Well, about a year ago, some Fireflies passed through and I heard them talking about a man that strangely resembled that husband of yours. Said he was killing people off left and right. So, I figured if I could find him, I could find you.”

“You… you joined the Fireflies so you could track me?”

“Wasn’t that hard, considering I just had to ask around. And I found out that you had been staying with that Tommy guy for the last ten years.”

“Then… why did you bring the others here?”

 _Did_ he bring the others here? You were about to find out.

“Easy way to get _Joel_ out of the picture.” He said his name with such disdain that a chill traveled down your spine. “They wanted him out of the picture and I wanted to have you. Win-win situation.”

 _Mother fucking shit balls fucking cock nugget!_ That fucking fucker was about to get what was coming to him, and it was going to be bloody.

“I love you. You know that, right? We can go off and raise the baby on our own. I can be the father.”

You pull away and wrap your arms around his neck.

“The baby already has a father.”

“I-I know, but only biologically.” His hands drift toward your waist, and you fight the urge to vomit. “You don’t need him, (Name).”

You pull him into a hug, and he laughs in relief, then groans when you press your lips to the side of his neck.

Your heart beats in your ears.

_Peaches peaches peaches._

The Darkness suffocates and pulls you into yourself.

Blood.

Who’s screaming?

You snap back to yourself and spit out the mass of skin and artery in your mouth. You’re crouched over him, knees pinning his arms to the floor as he yells and bleeds so prettily all over the concrete. Your feet are freed from their bonds.

He yells something about _crazy bitch_ says something about him _loving you never forgot you will track you down,_ but you’re simply on autopilot at this point. You seemingly float over to where he threw the butcher knife, pick it up and smile at the cold metal under your fingertips.

When you look up, he’s gone, yet a very distinctive blood trail marks his path. You follow him, all pain and anger and hurt and fear gone from your body, leaving only numbness and a desperate need for revenge.

He crawls toward the exit on bloodied hands and knees, then starts pleading once he hears your footsteps behind him.

You step in front of him and block his path, and he comes up to you and braces his forehead against your thighs, encircling his arms around your knees as he sobs.

If it weren’t for your gut suddenly ordering you to lift your leg up, your stomach would’ve taken the knife instead of the skewering of your shin and the back of your thigh.

You cry out and rip the weapon from your body. Adrenaline rushes hard into your ears, sounds like waves lapping at a shore, as you fight to keep standing as you kick him as hard as you can in the face. Blood streams down your leg in thick rivulets, yet you keep kicking him before you eventually collapse to the ground, a protective arm around your belly.

You roll him over and laugh at the sound of him choking on his own blood.

“You ruined my _fucking life._ Ya know, I’ve thought about this moment for years, how I was gonna kill you, but I never expected you to actually show up again.” You stare down at him and see his eyes glazed over, blood now clotted. You hadn’t bitten deep enough. “Guess I’d better get this show on the road so I can hurry on back to my husband.”

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he croaks.

“I agree, ‘cause I’m not gonna show you any mercy.”

You raise the knife above your head and take a deep breath.

“(Name).”

You look up at the sound of someone else’s voice to find Joel and Tommy standing in the doorway. Their eyes look as if they’re about to burst out of their sockets, and they have their hands held up to show that they mean no harm.

“Go. Away,” you growl, tightening your hand around the hilt of the knife.

“If you kill him right now, you won’t have the chance to torture him a little.” Of course Joel speaks to that inner part of you. He always has. “Let’s get him back to Jackson, then you can do whatever you want with him.”

With a huge release of breath, you toss the knife away from the both of you and look down at a barely-breathing Garrett.

Hands under your armpits lift you off of your abuser and onto your… leg. You lean back against Tommy for support and fold your injured leg up under your body like a flamingo.

Joel heaves Garrett over his shoulder with a grunt and motions toward the door.

“He should have keys on him,” you say, wiping the cold sweat from your brow with a shaking hand. “Put him in the trunk of the car outside.”

Tommy hooks an arm under your knees and around your back and carries you to the backseat of the car. Joel drives and Tommy rides shotgun.

* * *

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but when you wake, your leg is bandaged and unable to bend. Ellie’s laying next to you on the bed, eyes closed and face relaxed. You reach over and shake her shoulder to wake her up, and she bolts into an upright position with a gasp.

“Wh—(Name), you’re awake!” You can only nod. “I’ll go get Joel.”

You drift back to sleep despite how much you’ve been fighting it, and are woken up by someone shaking at your shoulder.

“Hey there,” you mutter, a dopey smile on my face.

“Hello to you, too,” Joel grumbles tiredly, eyes soft and relieved. Ellie isn’t present in the room.

“How long was I asleep?”

“About a day or so.” He shrugs. “You feel any… uh, different?”

“You mean is the baby okay? Yeah, just peachy.”

He lets out a relieved breath and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Can I… ?”

When he hovers a hand over your belly, you laugh.

“Joel, you’ve had your dick in my mouth the past decade. I don’t think touching my belly warrants so much caution.”

His eyes crinkle as he chuckles, and you pull his hand to rest upon your stomach, your own sitting atop his.

“I haven’t felt movement yet, but Celene said that where it’s my first pregnancy I might not feel it ‘til later.”

He pulls away and reaches a hand under your back to lift you up and slip your dress to sit just under your breasts.

“The thing that made Sarah start kicking was when we sung to her. Or when her mom drank cold water.”

There’s a look in his eyes, a mixture of nostalgia and hope that makes you tear up.

“Better get a glass of—”

You’re cut off when he presents you with a fresh glass of ice water. You gulp it down, not realizing how parched you actually are, before handing it back to him. The cold settles in your stomach, and you suddenly realize that you haven’t eaten in much too long. It worries you.

“Maria’s making you something to eat, if that’s why you’re pulling that face.” He sits in a chair next to the bed and looks down at the roundness of your belly. “Let’s see what we can do about making the kiddo move.”

When Joel presses his lips to your skin and starts singing, it’s no surprise that you start crying, then you start crying harder when you feel a flutter inside your belly a few minutes later. You move Joel’s hand to where it happens again, and the wonder in his eyes at the movement under his palm makes you smile.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks, and you gulp.

This is something you’ve thought about for months. If it’s a girl, you can fantasize doing all the cutesy stuff with her that every mother wants a daughter for, when in reality you’ll probably have to save her from murderers and rapists. And what happens when you and Joel are gone? You shudder at the thought and tears prick at your eyes.

“I would prefer a boy. More than likely he’s gonna take after your football-player ass and we wouldn’t have to worry as much about him. But if we had a girl…” you shudder again. “She’ll be small like me, so god knows who’ll take advantage of her.”

Joel runs a soothing hand up and down your arm as he listens to your tearful epiphany, then accepts the knock at the bedroom door and invites Maria inside.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she says with a slight smile. “How ya feeling?”

“Awful,” you grumble, and accept the bowl of vegetable soup she made. The first bite makes you close your eyes to bask in the taste. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

“It should have some good stuff in there for the baby… Thank fuck for Celene.”

The three of you share a chuckle before Maria sucks in a deep breath, apparently already antsy to leave.

“I hate to cut this visit short, but we kinda have four new pieces of shit to deal with, so…”

“It’s fine, Maria. Just come back later.”

Before she leaves, she sticks her head back into the room and says, “I’m really glad you’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u guys enjoyed this chapter!!! lemme know what u think


	13. Getting Situated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, alright. So it’s more than just that.” Ellie pauses for a second, picks at the hem of her jean leg. Her voice turns somber, and a melancholy hangs curdled in the air. “I mean, my mom died like, right after I was born. So… I guess Marlene is the closest thing I’ve had to a ‘mother figure’ but even then…”
> 
> “She was willing to kill you for her ideals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IVE BEEN DICKING AROUND WITH THIS CHAPTER FOR OVER A MONTH SO IM DONE IM READY TO MOVE ON
> 
> also pls accept my apology for being so long to get this out with such lil payout

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve needed Joel’s help more than ever these past few weeks as your leg healed and your stomach grew. When he wasn’t able to be there due to some tasks involving Tommy and Maria (including fucking around with Garrett and his buddies), Ellie was more than happy to fill in.

Most of all, you wanted a distraction. Not being able to get up and move has proved to be extremely annoying, seeing as you aren’t exactly used to sitting still, especially when you’re actually feeling up to getting outside.

You do get some fresh air on the front porch every few days or so, which is a welcome difference from staring at the bland walls of your bedroom all goddamn day.

That’s where you are right now, Ellie sitting at your side, reading a new comic book Joel brought back to her from a town over. Joel and Tommy are currently getting rid of some straggling bandits over at the river near the gates.

“Hey, Ellie?” you say, and she hums in response before pausing to turn and look at you. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

Her brows raise in surprise before she turns her body completely toward you and rests a hand on your shoulder.

“The fucking best. No doubt in my mind about that.” She smiles. “Besides, I kinda consider you my mom in a way.”

You almost choke on your water at the nonchalant way she states her comment. As if it’s fact. It makes you smile, the more you think about it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, Joel’s kinda my dad so that makes you kinda my mom by default, ya know? Since you two are married and all.”

You dramatically roll your eyes, and she chuckles.

“Alright, alright. So it’s more than just that.” Ellie pauses for a second, picks at the hem of her jean leg. Her voice turns somber, and a melancholy hangs curdled in the air. “I mean, my mom died like, right after I was born. So… I guess Marlene is the closest thing I’ve had to a ‘mother figure’ but even then…”

“She _was_ willing to kill you for her ideals.”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Ellie deflates, lowering her shoulders and breathing out an exhale. “It just seems that life has never been normal since I was bitten, ya know? And I see all these people dead and I wonder, why me? Why am I the one that gets to live when so many good people die?”

You take her hand in yours and duck your head to look her in the eyes.

“That’s how the world works, Elles. Bad things happen to good people, and vice-versa. But you can’t let what’s happened poison you. There’s a goodness in you that makes you special.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause that goodness was lost to us grown-ups a long time ago.”

“How so?”

“To put it simply: shit happens.” The curious look in her eyes makes you huff. It’s now or never. “And for me, in case you were wondering, is back… oh jeez, over a decade ago. Me and Joel were passing through this town when this really cute boy caught my eye. But then, turns out, he was a real piece of shit.”

Another silence.

“Did he… did he rape you?”

You suck in a deep breath and nod your head. You couldn’t say it aloud to her.

“I was almost raped by this cannibal. He locked me up and beat the shit out of me, but I got away.”

Joel told you this story before, but to hear her say it was a whole new level of heartbreaking.

“You were really brave.”

“I bashed the guy’s face in, (Name). I’m really afraid that I’m gonna turn into a monster, that I’ll be worse than even the Infected, and you know what’s worse than the Infected? Someone who does terrible things and _knows_ that they’re doing terrible things. They enjoy it.”

“Ellie, you won’t.”

She chews on her bottom lip in thought.

“I guess you're right.”

* * *

The more time you spend around the girl, the more you realize just how much all this has affected her. You’ve never been close enough to put the pieces together, but it all makes sense now. Her phobia of fire, how she always blanched at the sight of deer. There was this man that would stop by every so often, and Ellie was always short with him, giving him this look of unconcealed disgust that he would always question you about after she went inside. He eventually stopped coming by to chat.

She eventually moves in with you and Joel and takes the bedroom down the hall. Into the early hours of the night, you hear her strumming away at the guitar Joel gave and taught her a few chords to. He has to get up on a few occasions and tell her to get her ass to sleep, that pregnant ladies _and_ teenagers need their rest.

There are nights where she asks you to sleep next to her, or she stumbles into your room when the moon is still high, shoulders shaking from the effort to not collapse into tears, you guess, and as you scoot over to accommodate her, she tells you about the fire and the blood and the patient’s gown. You’re almost too big in the stomach to embrace her, Celene says you’re at the twenty-four week mark, but you do it anyway, every time.

One of the most annoying things about having Ellie around all the time and Joel around very little is that when you and him do find time together, you’re never able to get even a kiss or two in before a certain teenager strolls into your room and gets something from your dresser or comes to talk to you about an issue she’s having with one of her friends, completely ruining the mood.

You start to think she’s doing it on purpose.

One night, after Joel carries Ellie to bed after she falls asleep watching a movie, he settles in next to you under the covers and holds you as best as he can given the circumstances.

“Is she asleep?” you whisper against the hollow of his throat.

“Out like a light.”

“Wanna fool around?”

“Yes. I. Would,” he says, Texan accent comically thick, and immediately dives under covers and lifts your nightgown to sit about your hips after rolling you onto your back.

“Celene says I’m not supposed to lay on my back for long.”

“Not like we have the time anyway.”

He’s experienced with your body, can play it better than any guitar, and before you know it he’s used fingers and tongue to bring you to completion in record time, leaving you panting and content.

“Huh. So the thing they said about pregnant orgasms was true.”

He chuckles against the column of your throat, eases himself into you with such little resistance that the both of you let out a moan of equal parts pleasure and surprise. Each snap of his hips starts a low-burning fire that turns your toes numb, and he swallows your mewls with kisses that make your limbs melt into the bed.

Down the hall, Ellie coughs. You part and lock eyes, debating whether to quickly finish up or to abandon your tryst in fear of scarring the poor girl.

“If I finish both of us in less than a minute, you have to bake me an apple pie tomorrow.”

“Does it have to be from scratch?”

“Yes.”

You narrow your eyes, weighing your options. “Deal.”

* * *

“Okay, but, does the crust have to be from scratch, too?”

“The crust is what _makes_ it.”

You blink at him.

“So, is that a yes, or?”

“Yes, smartass.”

You almost take the pillow resting under your stomach and hit him with it, but decide that you’re too tired to deal with that. Situating yourself again would be a damn nightmare.

“Now go on to sleep. You need to get your energy back up after that.”

You roll your eyes at his blatant boasting.

“It was impressive, I gotta admit.”

He snuggles up against your back and curls a protective arm over your stomach, smiles against your shoulder at the flutter of a tiny foot just under your skin.

* * *

You don’t expect Alex and Brynne to show up a few days later. When she sees you in all your big-bellied glory her jaw drops, and her girlfriend smacks her on the bicep, which prompts her to compose herself and walk over to greet you.

“Sunshine, you’re—holy fuck, you’re glowing... The whole pregnant thing honestly suits you.” There’s a wariness in her words, but she _did_ always have a strong distaste for kids.

“It’s been a fucking nightmare, to be honest. Well, up until the last few weeks.”

“How far along?”

“Celene says twenty-four.”

She surveys you from head to toe before meeting your eyes and raising her brows.

“If I hugged you, would I break you?”

“Go suck a dick, Alex,” you say, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

She hugs you and you sigh, the always-woodsy smell of her skin making you nostalgic. Of better times.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry.”

“I just really missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

The two women walk with you back home, Alex’s eyes on you the entire way.

“Something you wanna ask?” You turn around to look at her, a gleam of playfulness in your eyes.

Her eyes suddenly grow fond and you pause. There are many ways to describe Alex Hackett, and _fond_ is not one of them.

“I just—” she shakes her head and clears her throat, “you look genuinely happy, Sunshine. Like, the nickname actually fits now.”

You sigh wistfully. “I am. Love changes a person, ya know.”

Her and Brynne lock eyes and she wraps an arm around her waist.

“I do know.”

You look away as they share a kiss, up to the line where the trees touch the sky, and find that for the first time in a long time, everything is as it should be.

* * *

As part of the deal, Alex gets her jacket until you come back to Kentucky, and you make a promise to her that after the baby is born, you'll drag your ass over there to come see her.

Everyone sits down for dinner, Joel and Ellie and Brynne and Alex and you, and you can’t help but cry when your best friend shares stories from your childhood, when days weren’t so daunting and nights were full of good aventures. When swimming through murky water and getting sick for the next two weeks was part of growing up, of having fun, and not of survival. When Before, having your favorite dog die resulted in a makeshift funeral with your best friends, then After, when you got older and saw those friends die, too.

Ellie asks questions upon questions, about the hundreds of ice cream flavors and what it was like to go to a Winter Ball. There are some that only Joel can answer, to which everyone jokes that he’s a dinosaur and isn’t getting younger.

 _But I love you for it,_ you throw in, knowing that he’s always been secretly self-conscious about his age within your relationship. Heidi used to make comments all the time about how an old-timer like him was able to snatch such a _young’in._ He would always ask you about it later, when you were settling down for bed or eating dinner.

Then Alex asks you the question. The huge one that hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“What are you gonna name the baby?”

You and Joel share a look of dread, because amidst the shitstorm of the past few months, neither of you had even thought about that.

“You don’t even have a _name_?” Ellie asks before throwing up her hands. “Holy shit, do I have to remind you guys of everything?”

“It would help,” you quip.

Joel rests his elbow atop the table and runs a hand back and forth along his forehead, says, “Jesus Christ, between the situation with you-know-who and all these bandits, it’s near-impossible to even take a piss anymore without getting interrupted.”

Alex shoots you a questioning look, and you just mouth _later._

* * *

Ellie storms into the living room in the middle of your talk with Alex. She’s fuming, face red and chest heaving.

“Ellie, are you—”

“(Name), you have to do something!”

You blink up at her as she paces in front of the couch.

“I don’t under—what?”

“Tommy and Maria have both decided that I need to start looking for a boyfriend so I can have kids _butIdon’twantaboyfriend_!”

You and Alex share a look, and Ellie huffs.

“Ellie, you’re fifteen and you’re the only person immune to the infection. When you have kids—”

“I know how that works. Maria explained all of that to me already. The problem is that I don’t… I don’t like _boys_.”

Oh. _Oh._

You glance over at Alex, who’s looking at Ellie with a warmth in her eyes, a sense of longing for something she had lost a long long time ago. There’s a brokenness, too, and when Alex collects the girl by the elbow and takes her to the kitchen island to have a seat, you rise to your feet and get the vodka. It’s unspoken. This lesson on love and loss and finding yourself, things both of you have struggled with and are still struggling with as adults.

She needs to know.

* * *

You don’t drink, instead snacking on fresh fruit while Ellie takes bitter-faced sips of her meager serving and Alex tosses the alcohol back as if her life depends on it.

It’s rare, seeing such clear and raw emotion from her. She tells of how her parents tried to change her at an early age, tried to make her “see reason” because she was a girl that liked other girls and that was forbidden. She tells the girl, with a tight grip on the latter’s shoulder, that love is few and far between and is rare and beautiful and you can almost see the face dancing behind her watering eyes. _Brynne._ She looks at you and it changes. _Joel._

Ellie asks questions, because she’s a teenager and her life has been a hard-fought battle for peace and she’s never really found any answers to all the good things in life, what few there are.

Alex ends on a poetic note. _Don’t compromise parts of yourself to fit everyone else’s narrative_ and it makes your heart break into teeny pieces when Ellie’s eyes go red and she says something about the dust in the room as she runs the back of her hand over them.

* * *

You’re woken in the middle of the night to a heavy bout of vomiting, and your shirt sticks to the sweat on your back from sleep-long nightmares.

Death had plagued your dreams, death and peaches and hands that re-grow. Your fingers tingle. Fingers that haven’t been there in months. You wash out your mouth and down a glass of water and violently shake out your arm to stop the sensation.

The bedroom is cold when you re-enter, stretching the skin of your face taut from drying sweat. You’re too exhausted to bathe, even at the feeling of your damp clothes and hair. That can wait until the morning.

When you lay back down and curl up against your pillow, you say Joel’s name. He stirs and turns his head to look at you.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just…” You settle deeper into the mattress, reaching forward to run a hand over his chest. “I’m really craving peaches. Can we get some tomorrow?”

He lets out a laugh, barely-there and relieved.

“Whatever you want. After all, I do make a mean peach cobbler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what u think ha <3


	14. Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nobody's guaranteed another day. You know that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these short chapters ARE SO MUCH EASIER TO DO OH MY GOD

“Joel, there’s something you gotta know.”

He sits up from untying his boots and scratches at his beard, lets out a short laugh.

“You gonna tell me you don’t love me anymore, too?”

Ow.

You push away from the dresser in front of him and run a hand through his greying hair. There’s something off about him, a stewing of nastiness in his chest. Maybe anxiety or anger, but you can’t tell.

“No, you dumbass. Ellie told me yesterday about what Tommy said and—”

“—(Name), Tommy says a lotta shit that don’t make sense.”

“Okay, well, will you listen to me?” He lifts his gaze to you, clearly disinterested in whatever you’re about to tell him. “That whole plan won’t work.”

“It has to. She’s the only chance we got at this cure.”

You cross your arms just above your belly and narrow your eyes. His attitude is starting to grate at your nerves.

“If someone would’ve let the Fireflies do their job, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

His jaw works under his skin, and you take a step back at the furious look he gives you.

“It happened, so drop it.”

Oh fuck, you wanna hit him so badly. But you don’t, and instead squeeze a hand around the back of his neck to get his full attention.

“You’re being an asshole, Joel. I haven’t seen you like this since the first time we traveled together. What the fuck is your problem?”

He lets out a breath through his nose and presses a large hand to the swell of your stomach, and you blanch at the anger in his voice against the softness of his touch.

“This right here is my problem. I’ve been worrying myself _sick_ over the two of you. The goddamn bandits aren’t letting up, that prick is still alive, and we got word yesterday that a group a few towns over needs a place to stay.” He turns back to removing his boots. “Tommy, being the _saintly man_ that he is, offered them a place here.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

Joel shrugs and looks back up at you, pulls you into his lap. The brush of his thumbs on your inner thighs makes your breath hitch.

“I’m… sorry, alright?”

A smile stretches your lips, and you scratch blunt nails against the nape of his neck.

“So Joel Miller knows how to apologize. Never thought I’d see the day.”

He rolls his eyes, and you chuckle, press your lips to the hollow of his throat. You’re both silent as you strip him of his shirt and he lifts your dress over your hips.

“What has gotten into you lately?” he mutters, moving to expose the column of his throat to your lips.

“You, hopefully.”

* * *

 A few days pass, and you finally find yourself comfortable enough with your healing to confront Garrett for the last time. Joel offers his presence, and you refuse him. You need to do this on your own. He says Martin, a long-time friend, will be right outside in case anything goes wrong.

The Darkness that you once held at the thought of him is gone. All that’s left is a melancholy, a sadness that things had to turn out this way. The meeting is quick. His friends had already been taken care of. He cusses at you, tells you _he hates you_ that _he loves you_ that _you can still run away together._ You tell him sorry, that you forgive him for what he did, and this time you cut deep enough into his throat for him to bleed out in less than a minute.

Martin offers you a towel at the door to wipe the blood from your face and chest.

You spend the rest of the day huddled in the corner of Ellie’s room, a blanket over your head and Ellie at your side to help you feel safe. She cries with you, tells you that she’s sorry, that she wishes there’s something she could do, and you pull her into a hug and tell her that her being here is enough.

Alex and Brynne go back to West Liberty a few weeks later. She lets you keep the jacket. It smells like her.

By that time, the group from the town over had made it to Jackson. Tommy makes them set up camp in the mountains a few minutes from the settlement and files them in individually, putting Celene in charge of checking them over for any fatal injuries or bites that would put the residents in danger.

You stand at the gates, gun in hand, despite Joel’s protests of you getting involved. Ellie stands on the other side to both quiet your husband’s fears and offer extra security in case anything goes awry. Things tend to do that nowadays.

Every person that passes you on the first day, led by Maria, starts up an annoying conversation about the baby and either gives parenting tips or asks questions, and they _all_ attempt to touch your belly. Maria always intervenes and quickly pulls them away, mother-henning you like the others. After the first dozen people, her patience runs thin and she then starts dragging them past before they can annoy either of you.

This lasts for three whole days.

There’s one woman that you can relate to more than any. She, like all the others, had stopped you on her way inside, but her conversation was much different.

* * *

" _Oh, you’re pregnant!”_

_You manage a small smile, holding Maria back with a raise of your hand. You can sense her rising irritation at the situation, yet there’s something different about this girl._

_“I’m sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it? Um, anyway, I’m a couple months pregnant myself, so we should get together sometime and talk.”_

_Her chipperness is both refreshing and annoying. Doom and gloom seems to have consumed your life lately, and to have someone so positive is nice. But it’s unrealistic._

_“Of course.”_

* * *

You find out that her name is Grace, a twenty-two year old woman with a faint Scottish accent. She talks about her boyfriend quite a lot, says that she can’t wait for them to reunite so he can help raise the baby, and your heart falls. You know that he’ll never come back.

The woman is unbearably optimistic, even after what she’s seen. It’s admirable.

Grace asks questions about what the pregnancy is gonna be like, what changes you’ve had to deal with. You contemplate taking her to Celene, but she’s adamant that she doesn’t want to cause any trouble or bring any attention to herself.

“The last place I tried to stay at wouldn’t allow pregnant ladies inside. Or people that needed special treatment, like kids or the elderly.”

You stir your tea to keep it warm and look off to the side.

“Yeah, a lot of places are like that.”

“It’s terrible,” she says, taking a sip of her own drink. “I just hope that I can find a new life here, ya know?”

“Jackson’s a good place. Just… don’t expect to be completely safe from the outside, alright?”

She sighs, a dejected sound.

“Everyone says that I’m too positive, but if I think about everything that’s happened I’ll just go crazy.”

You nod your head in understanding. Again, admirable.

Grace proves to be a really easygoing person to talk to. You share the latest town gossip over lemonade and pluck flowers together and trade stories. You reminisce on memories from your childhood and Ross, and she tells about her strict Scottish parents that passed away two years ago.

She gives you the pocket watch her father gave her before he died, says that if anything happens that you shouldn’t forget her, says _thank you for listening_ and _you’ll be a great mom._

* * *

A few weeks into your friendship, she loses the baby and hangs herself in her room. You cry for her all day, and when Joel comes home, he holds you.

“If the baby’s a girl, can we name her Grace?”

“Grace? That’s kinda cheesy, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, but… I dunno, I feel like I just need to honor her in some way. She was a really good person, and she didn't deserve to die.”

He rests his chin atop your head and sighs.

“Nobody’s guaranteed another day, (Name). You know that.”

“... That’s what scares me.”

“It scares me, too. But we’ll make it.”

“I hope you’re right,” you grumble, a small smile stretching your lips when he presses a kiss to your hair.

“I’m always right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grace is fav one-chapter character


	15. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody is waiting with bated breath.

The next few months that pass are terribly, _terribly_ uneventful. You’re practically bed-ridden until the baby decides to come.

Ellie entertains you with her new pun book and tells stories of the girl she’s crushing on. She talks about how her hair smells like rain and is the color of midnight and how nice her hands are, and your heart breaks. You hope this will last, for her sake. She deserves a little happiness.

“When I showed her my bite yesterday, she ran away and didn’t talk to me, like, all day, but then she apologized,” Ellie says in between spoonfuls of vegetable soup. “So we’re cool now.”

“I’m glad, Elles.”

She sets her empty bowl on the nightstand and flops back onto the bed, laying her head on your thighs.

“I wish this kid would hurry up, ‘cause as much as I love spending time with you and all, I know that we both hate having to lay in bed.”

You scoff and run a hand through her still-wet hair from the bath she had just taken.

“Imagine having to push this kid out.”

Ellie screws up her face and says, “Aw, come on! That’s the last thing I wanna imagine!”

You guffaw at the way she flings herself to the hand of the bed and buries her face into Joel’s pillow, then lets out a loud groan.

“Alright. Stop being a baby and go comb out your hair and brush your teeth.”

She sulks for a moment before hopping up and running to the bathroom to finish her nightly routine. This is one of the things you’ve had the hardest time getting her to do, since she’s never gotten to keep up her hygiene regularly, but with running water here in Jackson, everyone has that privilege. So much better than smelling like an actual dead body while out on the road.  

She comes back in and kisses you on the cheek to wish you good night.

“You’ll be okay for me to go bed, right?”

“Yeah. Joel should be back any second.”

She walks out, and amidst a yawn she says, “Love you.”

Your heart swells. This is the first time she’s said that, and she didn’t even realize it.

“Love you, too, Ellie,” you manage to say through tears.

* * *

Quite a few residents stop by to wish you luck as the weeks of your pregnancy yawn to a close, usually bringing by gifts of washed-out baby clothes and words of advice. Joel simply rolls his eyes at the latter and tells them that there’s no reason, because this isn’t his first rodeo and it isn’t anything he hasn’t grown accustomed to before.

You, on the other hand, grow quite nervous at the prospect of being a new mother. You had never given it much thought, but now that the baby is right around the corner, everything has sunken in.

You’re fucking terrified.

Joel tries to alleviate your fears by reassuring you that everything will be fine, that _no_ you won’t die during childbirth and _yes_ the baby will come out with all appendages, even though you lost one.

* * *

The last two weeks are the hardest. The phantom pains from your hand switch into an incessant pins-and-needles feeling that makes you want to cut it off. Except it’s already gone. Celene doesn’t know what the fuck is going on other than _oh, it must be hormones or something_.

Nobody but close family comes around because you’re always in terrible pain with your back and every little thing makes you cry (seriously, you forgot your favorite socks in the living room and cried for twenty minutes until Joel went and fetched them) and false contractions start to become more frequent, if unpredictable, which Celene keeps track of to make sure they aren’t the real thing.

Joel gets the chance to build a crib and carries it to your room before he stands back and gives you a proud smile.

“I still got it,” he says, sitting down next to you on the end of the bed.

“It’s gorgeous,” you mutter, releasing a dreamy sigh. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“Feels like a damn dream.” He wraps an arm around the line of your shoulders and pulls you flush against his side. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m so fucking nervous. I’ve been having these nightmares where the baby comes out Infected and—”

“That ain’t gonna happen, (Name).”

You look up at him and scowl.

“But still, it’s terrifying, Joel.”

“I know it is. I know. But I promise it ain’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“You’re too excited for your own good.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“What can I say? I think I deserve to have something good happen in my life.”

* * *

Excitement is an understatement. Every time you sit outside, someone passes by you and asks what the hell you’ve done with Joel, says that he’s always smiling and always talking about the baby.

You’re on the opposite end of the spectrum, not knowing what to expect with childbirth or how to even take _care_ of a baby. Joel eases your fears on the matter, tells you that you aren’t going into this alone.

Four days before the baby is full-term, you wake with a sharp pain in your lower back and a wet spot on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so on one hand I want it to be a girl cause hello SARAH but on the other hand I want it to be a boy cause it'll be a brand new experience  
> DECISIONS GAH  
> Also i have zero idea for what the baby boy's name could be (if it's even a boy im gonna flip a coin or something) I NEED ASSISTANCE


	16. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BABY BABY BABY !!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone's just on the edge of their seat in waiting, and the wait is over boys !!!

Oh, you thought you loved _Joel_. You had no idea what love was two minutes ago. Not until your son was laid upon your chest and his first cries made everyone in the room let out a relieved breath.

“Ten fingers, ten toes. Healthy,” you murmur, breathless from the past four-hour exertion of labor.

The baby’s hand wraps around your pinky, and you take in the features of his face through your tears, in awe of how _beautiful_ he is. He has a head of hair, dark like his dad’s with the slightest curl to the ends.

“Congratulations, you two,” Celene whispers, passing you a blanket to cover him with so he doesn’t get cold. “I’ll give you guys a little while alone with him. Just come get me when you’re ready for guests, alright?” She leaves.

Joel pulls up a seat to relax next to your bed inside Celene’s house-turned-hospital, where you had been brought to once your labor had kicked in.

“He looks a lot like you,” you observe amidst the silence, running a fingertip over a slight brow and a chubby cheek as he breastfeeds for the first time. It’s a weird sensation, intimate and beautiful and when small blue eyes meet yours you can’t help but start crying again.

Joel rests a hand against your bare shoulder and presses a kiss to your temple, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold back tears as best as he can, until the baby finishes feeding and you pass him to his father and Joel’s shoulders start shaking. You readjust your gown to cover your upper half again and move over to give him room to lay with you.

Celene comes in a few minutes later to check your vitals, then leaves to fetch Maria and Ellie at your discretion. She tells you that Tommy will come visit once he finishes some important stuff around the settlement.

Ellie collapses into gibberish about how cute he is and makes grabby hands at him. Maria comes to stand at your side with a bittersweet smile on her face.

“You sounded like you were dying,” Ellie exclaims, and you watch as Joel positions her arms to correctly hold the baby.

“I felt like I was.”

“How are you feeling now?” Maria asks, now looking over Ellie’s shoulder to watch the baby.

“I’m really sore, but other than that, I’m okay.”

“What are you gonna name him?” the woman inquires, inspecting a freckle upon his small hand.

Ellie’s head snaps up and looks over at you and Joel.

“Ooh, can I pick?” At the skeptical glance the two of you share, the teen insists, “Please?”

“Depends on what it is,” Joel mutters, looking both drained and peaceful at the same time.

“I’m not gonna name him anything crazy. I was thinking Samuel, but Sam for short, like Henry’s Sam.”

“I like Sam,” you mumble amidst a yawn. “But who is he?”

Joel turns to you. “Me and Ellie traveled with a guy, Henry, and his brother, Sam for a little while. Sam got bit and… Henry had to kill him. Then Henry shot himself.”

You exhale a deep breath and look up at him.

“Jeez. Well, I mean—I’m fine with it if you are.”

Joel’s nose crinkles, and you can see him contemplate it for a moment before he dissents, “I just don’t like the idea of naming a new person after someone who’s dead.”

“It makes sure their legacy lives on, Joel. There’s a reason, and it’s a lot more special after dealing with all _this_.” You weakly motion to the space around you, where death constantly occurs and people eat other people and life comes gift-wrapped with a gun.

He gives you a pointed glare, gnaws on the inside of his jaw.

“No. Let’s think of something else.”

Ellie sulks and passes the baby to Maria when she asks to hold him.

“What about Johnny? Like Johnny Cash?”

“Oh, lord. Really, (Name)?”

“Okay, Jackson. It’s where we reunited.”

“That’ll get confusing.”

“Then we can call him Jack for short.”

“Not bad.” He takes the baby from Maria and says, “Lil’ Jackson. Hopefully you get your momma’s spitfire personality.”

The whole room dissolves into light-hearted laughter.

“Nathan can be his middle name,” you mutter, starting to feel your eyes droop from exhaustion. Joel agrees.

Celene tells you that you’re allowed to sleep, that _your body needs to rest and heal after what it’s been through_ , and if anything happens someone will wake you up immediately.

You fall asleep to the sound of Joel’s barely-audible singing.

* * *

Jack is a _fantastic_ baby. He only fusses when he’s hungry or in need of a change, loves to sit outside and people watch (and loves the affection from the townsfolk), and has the calmest demeanor you’ve ever seen. Of course, you haven’t seen many babies since the outbreak, but your neighbors back home used to pop out kids every single year, and they were always rambunctious little shits.

He, however, is an angel.

Joel goes through some changes, as well. He rarely goes out these days unless Tommy absolutely needs him, choosing instead to stay home and show you the ropes, and blow the dust off his parenting skills for the first time in years. The more you watch him, the more you realize that the demeanor he’s so famous for completely shatters when he’s around his son.

On more than one occasion you hear him telling dad jokes, even though Jack doesn’t understand what the hell he’s saying.

You never thought you could love the man more, but seeing such a paternal side to him sparks a newfound fondness that you didn’t even know you could possess.

He never lets Jack sleep in his crib, even when the baby grows into a couple months old. Ever. Even when you put him down for a nap, you always find him and Joel cuddling in bed, and it’s so precious that you can never bear to separate them.

He never lets anybody take Jack away from home other than you and him, either. Not even Tommy or Maria, and especially not Ellie. When you leave, he forces you to slip a pocket knife into your bra or a boot.

If someone comes over, Joel watches them like a fly on the wall.

It gets to the point where you honestly believe the man is going to go crazy with his overprotectiveness, and that he’s taking the new baby much harder than you are. But you know why he’s behaving this way.

You walk into the bedroom after deciding that you need to have a talk. The boys are sitting in the bed as always, Joel reading a worn-out children’s book aloud to the child, who looks more intrigued at watching Joel’s mouth move than the actual storyline. He pauses when he hears you in the doorway, and you smile when Jack starts cooing at the sight of you. The smile fades, and you release a dejected sigh.

“Joel, listen, I love you with every fiber of my being, but you are being a damn helicopter.”

He pulls Jack close, as if you’d just insulted his own child, and screws up his face.

“I am _not_.”

“The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem,” you say, voice singsong as you join them on the bed. “Listen, I understand that you’re trying to compensate for—”

“I know what direction this is headed, and you’re wrong.”

You level a look of disbelief at him and deadpan, “So you’re telling me that you aren’t being overprotective because you don’t want what happened to Sarah to happen to Jack.” He narrows his eyes at you, yet you continue anyway. “You know you don’t have to be a tough guy around me, right? You can tell me what you’re feeling.”

When you glance down and see Jack looking up at you in awe, you smile and press a kiss to the top of his head. His giggle makes your heart flutter.

“Alright, so I might be a little terrified,” he admits with a defeated sigh, runs a hand through the boy’s quickly growing hair. “I just… something is finally going right in my life and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

“What happened to Sarah wasn’t your fault.”

“I was her dad.” His voice breaks, and he quickly clears his throat to hide the sound. “I was supposed to protect her, and I failed.”

“You protected her until the end. If anyone’s to blame—”

“It’s the person that gave the order.”

“Exactly. Did I tell you that Tommy took me to Texas with him to go visit your town?” He shakes his head, closing the book and tossing it to the end of the bed. “Well, he did. I got to see where you and Sarah lived, and the whole time he didn’t say one bad thing about you as a dad.” You touch his cheek and move to look him in the eye. “I’m seeing it firsthand, Joel. You’re doing amazing. She’s gone, and you gotta accept that. Let the bitterness go.”

He leans into your touch and you say nothing when he cries.

* * *

The first time you bring Jack to a dinner, his presence uplifts everyone’s mood. You decide to trek over to the cafeteria for the first time in forever, Joel and Ellie in tow.

He gets overwhelmed at first, not sure what to make of so many people, but it’s quickly replaced with both curiosity and the need to jabber over everyone who chooses to speak.

Everyone mentions how he looks like an exact copy of his dad, much to Joel’s amusement, though you don’t mind. Hopefully he’ll have your personality.

One of the things that makes you laugh is how he spouts gibberish like he’s telling a damn story. Everyone nods along with big smiles and words of encouragement, and it always ends with him breaking out into laughter that melts your heart every time.

* * *

Celene says you should start exercises now that Jack is starting to roll over. They’re as simple as laying him on his stomach, but holy hell, does he fuss. But usually it takes nothing more than joining him on the floor and talking with him or having a conversation with Joel to grab his attention and focus his mind elsewhere.

He loves rattles and bright colors and the sound of your voice. Joel never stop making new toys for him, because he quickly grows tired of them by the end of the week.

You laugh every time he pauses what he’s doing and inspects his hands, turning them and shoving them enthusiastically into his mouth.

He learns that he can scare you by staying quiet for a few moments then blowing raspberries as he plays. Your heart jumps every time, and Joel always cackles.

Until Jack starts doing it to him.  

When he starts crawling, he never. Stops. He follows you through the house as you do chores, babbling away when you talk to him about different things. Then he goes behind you and undoes your work. He pushes books off of low-reaching shelves and pulls laundry out of the baskets, and Joel tells you that he’s just being curious like babies tend to be.

It doesn’t make it any less annoying though, and at the end of the day, your back is always in knots and your knees are sore from bending down so much. But you can’t bring yourself to mind.

* * *

 

The first six months go smoothly. The settlement is relatively quiet, Fireflies around town have been stamped out, and your family is happy.

But happiness never lasts. You should’ve known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @alohomora_sherlocked and @vierran96 for the names !! I actually picked the gender by flipping a coin ha but I wanted a boy anyway cause of the new experience it would bring. You guys I did so much research that if anybody sees my history theyre gonna be like "???? um so when's the baby due" but I had a cousin who would come to my house all the time and I remember some of the shit that she used to do so it's a mixture of the two things ?
> 
> Also Dad Joel is my new favorite thing I can't see him as anything else now fuck me UP


	17. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three things everyone loves: violence, softcore porn, and angst.

“Would you rather bite off your own fingers or get your hand chopped off?”

You fan your chest with the front of your shirt, smothering in the stifling heat of the boiler room you and Ellie and Hannah and Jack are hiding in.

“Is it a clean chop or does it take more than once?”

Jesus Christ, these girls.

“Guys, could we not talk about this right now?” you ask quietly, adjusting Jack into the crook of your arm. “This isn’t—” The first bang at the door makes you pull the knife from your boot, and you hand Jack over to Ellie. “Go hide,” you whisper as the banging grows louder, more persistent.

You hear voices outside the door, gunshots a little ways away.

Bracing yourself, you move the box away from the entrance of the room and rush forward when a person tumbles inside. Their cry is almost as loud as the blood rushing into your ears when you plant the blade just under their ribs, twist it up into their lungs.

“(Name), duck!”

You drop to your knees just as shots ring out, blood spurting over your hand pressed to the top of your head.

It takes a few moments before you’re dragged out of the building by your hair, kicking and grunting against the force tugging you. Yelling would just alert more bandits. He knees you hard in the face to get you to stop struggling, and the stream of blood from your nose doesn’t go unnoticed.

Suddenly remembering the knife in your hand, you drive it through the man’s foot and into the ground below, breaking off the handle in the process. Ellie’s there in a flash, tosses you her gun and replaces it with her switchblade. You knock the man off balance and he cries out as the blade slices clean through his foot, but you don’t give him a chance to get up. You plant a bullet between his eyes, heartbeat so furious that you’re dizzy.

“Where’s Jack?” you yell, chest tight with fear.

“He’s okay. Hannah has him.”

You hiss at the pain in your scalp, worry your palm over the area, but sigh in relief.

“We can’t stay here, girls. Let’s go find Joel and Tommy.”

* * *

Carrying a baby and a gun sans hand is more difficult than you thought it would be, but you refuse Ellie’s offers to hold him. You want to be in control of _something_ while this is going on.

The bandits had managed an attack on Jackson while everyone slept. Bodies litter the streets as you jog in the direction of Tommy’s office, almost slipping on pools of blood more than once. Ellie does fall, gags when the still-warm substance seeps into the left side of her clothes. Hannah helps her up and tugs her along behind you. Jack cries into your shoulder, fear emanates from him in waves, and a fire lights within you.

Now you see why Joel was so protective.

* * *

The fighting lasts for what seems like hours, even though it’s over in thirty minutes. Ellie ends up with a broken finger from punching a bandit in the face and Jack’s hair is matted with blood, even though he isn’t hurt. Hannah also manages to come through unscathed. You have a stab to your forearm and a broken nose that refuses to stop bleeding from trying to protect three children.

“I told you I had him, but you just had to get in the middle, didn’t you?”

You pull the towel away from your face and sniffle, glaring at a furious Ellie as she paces the length of your living room.

“If I hadn’t, he would’ve snapped your arm in two.”

“Yeah, and you got stabbed! That isn’t much better,” she yells.

“In the grand scheme of things—”

“Fuck the grand scheme of things!”

“Ellie!”

“It’s true and you know it. Nobody knows how long we’re gonna live, so I don’t know why everybody wants to keep counting the bigger picture as a reason to keep me alive.”

A silence wafts throughout the room, thick and nauseating. Hannah sits with Jack on the couch, the former preoccupying herself with keeping the baby calm so she doesn’t have to acknowledge your argument and ultimately be brought into the middle of it.

The door opens and slams against the wall as Joel storms in looking worse for wear, suddenly stopping once he feels the tension between you and Ellie.

“Everybody alright?”

“(Name) got stabbed,” the teen quickly says before you get a chance to stop her, and you curse under your breath.

When his eyes land on you, his face screws up in a mixture of anger and hurt before returning to his usual neutral expression. He looks Ellie over from a distance, then Hannah, then rushes over to pick up Jack and run fingers through blood-caked hair.

“Whose blood’s this?”

“Probably your wife’s,” Ellie grumbles, collapsing onto the couch next to her friend.

By this point, a numbness has filled you up like a mold, all tar and melancholy and when you cry Ellie apologizes and Joel wraps an arm around the line of your shoulders and leads you into the bathroom with your baby in his other arm.

You take turns bathing and collapse into bed, the sheets nice and cool and inviting against your body. Before you can drift off to sleep, however, Joel is on you, palms hot against your skin as he shimmies a hand into your underwear.

“What about—”

“Ellie’s at Hannah’s for the night and I put Jack’s crib in her room.” You suck in a deep breath at the brush of his beard against the side of your neck. “Tonight you’re all mine.”

You melt into his touch, body pliant under his administrations, but with the roughness of his hands and the filthiness of his words you know that he won’t be gentle with you. The thought excites you more than you'd like to admit.

He sheds your clothes and dips his fingers inside you, denying you kisses four times before eventually flipping you over and pressing your face into the pillow. Then he fills you up and you’re _aching_ around the heat of him, can’t manage a full breath when he starts a grueling pace and drives into you, grunts and moans into your ear.

You arch your hips to meet his thrusts, so deep that your eyes water and your mind swims with pleasure and god you almost forgot that he can _fuck_. He suckles on the skin of your neck, trailing a line to the end of your shoulder, and you can’t even manage to retaliate with his hands pressing you down.

Leftover adrenaline from the fight surges back through your veins, and it leaves you angry and frustrated, which you suspect is Joel's problem.

You arch against him, maneuver your arm and elbow his chest to halt him long enough to throw him off-balance. When you straddle his hips and run fingers through his chest hair, he growls and wraps an arm around your waist.

“You and them goddamn acrobatics.” The sound of his voice, thick and gruff from arousal, makes you clench around the first inch or two of him inside you, and he hisses through grit teeth.

You fully seat yourself on him, lean forward to leave bruises on his collarbones and neck, and when he thrusts up into you all you can do is gasp.

“Oh, you _fuck_.”

Joel grins against your skin and buries his face into your hair and sets a grueling pace that has you biting his shoulder and whining every time his hips slam into your ass.

He finishes inside your mouth this time, tastes just like you remember, then buries his face between your legs like a man starved to leave you a sweating, satisfied mess at your release.

Both of you lie there for a long moment, catching breaths and resting amidst the silence. _T_ _he afterglow_.

You look over at him and run the tip of a finger over the imprints your teeth left in his skin.

“I think we can both agree. That was the best sex we’ve ever had.”

“I dunno. Remember the time we fucked on top of that building during the sunset?”

You grin and say, “Christ, that was beautiful. Oh, what about that time when we had to hide in the confessional?”

“Still got no idea how we didn’t burst into flames.”

You both share a long, much-needed laugh, snuggling even closer to each other.

The moment is eventually ruined when you both have to clean yourselves up, tuck in a still-sleeping Jack, then eventually fall back into bed at sunrise, the warmth of sheets and skin a welcome contrast to the death and fear you faced earlier tonight.

* * *

You wake around the middle of the day to an empty bed and an ache between your legs that you haven’t felt since your first time. As you get dressed, you run your hands over the finger-shaped bruises on your hips and hickies splotched all over your chest and neck like a painting.

Too bad that it’s too goddamn hot for turtlenecks and you _know_ that Ellie is gonna point them out as soon as you see her.

You walk outside to look for Jack, who’s most definitely with his dad, and instead find a raging bonfire in the middle of the settlement. The smoke burns your eyes and you spot Tommy waving over two men carrying a small child in each of their arms, their parents tearfully trailing behind them. A shiver courses through you because god, that could've been Jack.

“(Name), good to know you’re alive. Didn’t see you last night.”

You turn to the voice and manage a small smile.

“Maria, hey. Yeah, we took Jack back home and fell asleep.”

She raises a brow at you and glances down at your neck, and you roll your eyes impatiently.

“Hey, I’m not judging. Last night was rough. In more ways than one, it seems.”

You snort and elbow her in the side as the two of you start walking in the direction of Celene’s clinic to get your arm some new bandages and to see if your nose is really broken.

“How many casualties?”

Her face falls, and suddenly you wish you could take the question back once the guilt in her eyes becomes evident.

“About a quarter of us.”

You sputter, almost trip over your own feet at the shockingly high number.

“Holy fuck! Maria, I’m—”

“They were mostly innocents caught in the crossfire." She stops and releases a sigh, tries so hard to not let emotion show on her face. "So many kids… (Name), what if that had been Jack? Or Ellie?”

What if it _had_ been? She raises a point that causes nausea to swirl in your gut, and you can only shake your head.

“But it wasn’t.”

“It could’ve been. Listen to me,” she steps in front of you and takes you by the shoulders. “You’re gonna hate me for this, but it’s for the good of Jackson.”

You furrow your brow and slowly say, “Maria, you’re scaring me.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and when she looks at you again, her face is set to a no-bullshit expression. The one she uses to talk business. You know this won’t be good.

“I’m sending you to a town to the north. We have some friends there that could lend some fire power so we can get rid of these sons of bitches for good. I need you to find them and bring them back. I would send Joel but Tommy needs him here.” She talks to you as if you're a small child in need of simple instruction, and you grit your teeth so hard you think they might break.

“No.”

“Joel’s gonna stay here with—”

“ _NO!"_ You shake free of her and level a defiant gaze to match her own. "Send. Someone. Else.”

“This isn’t up for debate! Tommy’s with me on this, you’re the only one I can fully trust to get it done, and as the leader of this place, when I give you an order you _do_ it, sister-in-law or not. Don’t make me force you.”

She watches you. It’s all you can do to keep from breaking her nose, but you know that you would still have to follow orders anyway. Maybe if you talked to Joel or-or _something_... No. No sense in getting him involved.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry this trashbag leaving B Y E  
> idk how to even?? explain this i just wanted to write joel fucking and some feels at the end sue me


	18. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I got him,” Joel says with a sigh, stops you from walking away with a hand around your arm. “Be careful. I mean it.” He curls a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you to his chest. “I can’t lose you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't been happy with my writing at all. nothing comes out right and i've almost forgotten how to make everything blend together and it's so frustrating. it's not even writer's block. idk

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, Joel. I’ll be fine.”

“ _I’ll be fine_ says the woman with only one hand.”

You turn to find Ellie standing in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed in irritation. “Just let me go with you.”

You release a long breath from your nose and level a finalizing gaze at her.

“No. You need to stay here for when they attack again.”

She throws up her arms and groans, says, “You are so hard to deal with.”

“Tell me about it,” Joel mutters, chuckling at the glare you give him. “I’m joking. Kinda.”

You elbow him in the side and he doubles over and cries out dramatically, eliciting a laugh from Jack.

“Hey, little fella,” Ellie chirps, moving to sit next to the baby on the bed. “Maybe you can convince your mom to stay?” She picks him up to stand him atop her thighs, moves his arms as she speaks in a squeaky voice akin to Mickey Mouse, “Ma, come on! We’re all really gonna miss you, especially me!”

Your heart shatters as she lowers him onto her lap and looks up at you with a hopeful smile and raised brows.

“Ellie,” you begin with a sigh, and her face falls, “I’m sorry, but Maria isn’t gonna take no for an answer. I have to go either way.”

You watch her eyes flicker to over your shoulder, and you know exactly what she’s going to try before the words even leave her mouth.

“Joel—”

You hold up your hand and interrupt her with a sharp, “Don’t bring him into this. Her and Tommy aren’t changing their minds. I’m going, Ellie, so drop it.”

She huffs and curls both arms around Jack, watching as Joel helps you pack the rest of your things.

“You said Marcus was gonna go with you?” Joel asks and rests both hands on his hips.

“Yeah. She didn’t want me to go _completely_ solo.”

“Well, don’t fall for that boyish charm of his, alright?”

You know that under the joke there’s a hint of legitimate pleading, and it makes you want to will those worries away.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to find Ellie sitting on the bed, fiddling with Jack’s tiny fingers.

“Hey, Ellie, you mind taking Jack downstairs to play? He’s looking a little restless.”

She makes a noise of disgust and grumbles, “Wait for me to get my ear plugs before you sickos do anything.”

You both chuckle in response as she sulks out the door, you following behind her to lock it after she leaves. You collapse onto the bed and watch Joel stalk over to you, arms crossed over his chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

He stops at the edge of the mattress, where the bend of your knees catch, and you reach out to wrap a hand around the inner part of his lower thigh.

“You know I only have eyes for you, right?” you ask, brow furrowed to show your seriousness.

He releases a breath through his nose and rolls his lips into his mouth in thought, gazes over at the window above the head of your bed.

“I know I’m not as young as I used to be,” he mutters, choosing to answering the question with avoidance, voice distant and low.

You sit up in irritation and yank at the front of his shirt to get him to look down at you. He does, and there’s something misplaced in his eyes that almost makes you shiver.

“You stop it right now. For over the past decade, no matter who I was with, you were always at the front of my mind. Even when I thought I would never see you again and we were never even together, because in a way I felt like I was betraying you. I love you, Joel. In this life, in the next, no matter what circumstances or hardships, I will _always_ be yours. Even though you’re all old and grey, which isn’t a bad thing considering you age like fine goddamn wine,” he finally laughs through the tears in his eyes and you smile up at him, heart swelling at your own confession, “I love you more now than I ever did back then. You’re an amazing husband, an even more amazing father, and a _good man._ ”

He quickly wipes at his eyes and cards a hand through your hair, says, “Aren’t I the one supposed to be giving you a pep talk?”

“I don’t need it,” you say, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to give him a quick kiss. “What I do need, however, is a nice fuck for good luck.”

His brows raise incredulously and he chuckles then nods his head, lifts you with an arm hooked around your thighs to lay you against the center of the bed so he has room to hover over you.

“That I can do.”

* * *

Marcus already stands at the gates in waiting, and you adjust the pack over your shoulder and turn to a fidgeting Joel at your side, Jack tiredly slumped in his arms from his brief play date with Ellie.

Your husband releases a defeated sigh and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“Be careful. Please. Don’t do everything yourself, ‘cause that’s what Marcus is there for.”

You roll your eyes and mutter, “I know, Joel. You don’t have to lecture me like I’m Ellie,” even though you know that his concerns are legitimate.

“I know, I know. Just wanna make sure I cover everything.” He breathes in a deep sigh to steady himself. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too,” you say with a smile and turn to Jack. “And no matter what happens, Mommy loves you forever and always, okay?” He coos in return and reaches for you, and he whines when you ignore his pleas and press a kiss to his forehead. “Mommy can’t hold you, right now, Jack.”

It still doesn’t stop him from crying, though.

“I got him,” Joel says with a sigh, stops you from walking away with a hand around your arm. “Be careful. I mean it.” He curls a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you to his chest. “I can’t lose you.”

You smile at him after pulling away and say, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

A little thought tugs at the edges of your mind, turns your blood cold. _But what if you won’t? You’ll leave Joel all by himself and Jack won’t have a mom to grow up with. What the fuck are you doing, (Name)!?_

That thought carries you over to Marcus, who takes your bag and tosses it into the back seat.

“You ready?” he asks, voice falsely cheery, and he slicks his auburn hair back with the hand not on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” you mutter with a sigh.

You can’t look back.

* * *

Lyrics blare through the truck speakers about liking peaches and shaking trees, and Marcus sings them in earnest, makes you double over with laughter as the wind from rolled-down windows bats against your cheeks and rustles your hair.

He turns the music down and rests his arm over the back of the seat, glancing over at you.

“(Name), I know you don’t wanna be here any more than I do, but we can still manage to have fun, right?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and instead sink lower into your seat.

“I’m too old for fun, Marcus.”

“Psh. Please. You’re never too old for fun.”

“Says the twenty-five year old.”

He pauses for a second and laughs, mutters, “Okay, you got me there.”

* * *

You miss Jack. And Joel. And Ellie. When the nightmares come halfway through your trip and you’re jolted awake by your own screaming, it’s only Marcus there. He doesn’t comfort you. Simply sits there all wide-eyed and hair mussed up. A pain in your wrist where there shouldn’t be pain at all is searing, and you hunch over and cry into your pulled-up knees.

“Is-is there anything I can do?” he whispers, voice alert and shaking.

“No,” you manage through tears.

“We should probably leave. The infected were bound to hear that.”

You nod your head and allow Marcus to pick your belongings off the floor of the apartment you found haven in.

“Next time you notice me having a nightmare, wake me up before I start screaming.”

“Um, of course. Yeah.”

* * *

You know the boy feels hurt at the cold shoulder you’re giving him, but you can’t bring yourself to care, even though you’re aware that your behavior could bite you in the ass. But you’re _angry_. Maria knew that you had everything to lose by going on this adventure, and she didn’t even care. Any minute you could stumble upon a group of hunters looking for loot, or a group of infected looking for someone to kill.

Unfortunately, you had spoken too soon.


	19. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Marcus travel to Newcastle, and Joel worries.

"Do you think (Name) is alright?" 

Joel falls back onto the couch and looks over at a furrow-browed Ellie, currently white-knuckling the neck of her guitar.  

"Hold that thing any tighter and you're gonna break it, and we ain't finding you another one," he grumbles, reaching over to loosen her grip. 

She sighs, seemingly irritated at the aloofness he gives off, and says, "Joel, you don't have to do this with me. I know you're worried... which you have every right to be, I might add." 

No. He cannot think about it because the more he thinks about it the more he worries and he has to keep a level head while you're away. He can't think about the possibilities, like you getting bitten or Marcus getting bitten and biting you or religious cults stealing you away or hunters... hunters doing what they do. 

There's a long silence before Joel finally speaks up. 

"She's tough. Hell, the woman's only been gone four days, so let's not start worrying just yet." He gives the girl a small smile and pokes at her forehead. "Besides, all that frowning causes wrinkles." 

She chuckles and turns back to the guitar in her lap, starts strumming an unfamiliar tune that isn't entirely unpleasant. 

"In another life, I feel like I would be a musician." 

He props up his arm against the couch and rest his chin in his palm, asks, "Huh, that so?" 

She strums an open chord and rests a hand against the strings when Jack starts blabbering from his place on the floor. 

"Yeah. Music is fun." She shrugs. "I really like it." 

"I'm glad you could find a hobby then." 

Joel motions Jack over with a wave of his hand and a coo of, "C'mere, buddy," and lifts him into his lap.

"Look on the bright side, old man! You still have a part of her with you." 

He watches as the toddler examines his own hands for a moment before tossing his head back to look up at him. Ellie starts up a Johnny Cash song, and Jack claps somewhat to the beat. Better than some he's heard. 

And then an idle wonder turns into a full-blown panicking thought process. How in the hell is he gonna manage two kids, a whole town to defend, and worrying over you for a month, maybe even _two_?!

* * *

Things on your side fare far worse. You had stumbled onto a nest of clickers in an abandoned school cafeteria and are currently trying to figure out how to reach the broken skylight to escape. Marcus balances on high alert, having barricaded the both of you inside the kitchen while hungry clickers slowly lose interest after not hearing your presence for a short while. He refuses to move from his huddled position under the preparation table. 

"Marcus, get the fuck up! We have to move!" you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. "I can't do this without you, so let's go." 

"If we go out there, we're dead, (Name). This is it. Our fate has been sealed."

"Don't just roll over and take defeat. If you want to survive, you'll find a goddamn way. Now get. Up." 

After a bit of coaxing, the man finally stops pouting and joins you above the table, where you're pouring over a local map of the school that you had found lying in some desk. 

"There's an exit next to the ice maker that leads to one of these adjoining hallways. If we could maybe slip into this janitor's closet," you point to a room on the northeastern part of the map, "and find something we can use to get to the skylight, we might be able to slip back around to the cafeteria," another tap to the center, "and catch the clickers by surprise." 

You turn and look at a wide-eyed Marcus, whose face is pallid and sweaty. 

_Why in the hell did Maria choose him?_

Okay, it makes sense. She couldn't really spare the better soldiers in fear of another attack happening, but it still feels like she had unknowingly sabotaged the mission by choosing someone like him to accompany you. 

“Listen, you can’t back out on me when we do this. You promised Maria you would keep me safe.”

He nods his head and says, “Alright. We can do this.”

“We have to.”

You search the kitchen for anything you can use and stuff a found wrench and crowbar into the side pocket of your backpack. He tosses you a cartridge of ammo and asks you to see if it’ll fit.

It doesn’t.

“How many shots you got left?”

“If we don’t fuck this up? Enough,” you tell him, passing by him to make your way to the back entrance next to the ice machine, just like the map said.

“Okay, I’ll try to take them out with melee and you use your gun. Being down a hand will make it hard to fight these shitfuckers off.”

You manage a small laugh at his insult and turn to give him a nod of understanding.

“Only if we need to. Hopefully we can sneak past. Let’s not waste any bullets or draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

You open the door just wide enough for both of you to slip through and sink down into a crouch.

“Where did you learn this stuff?” he whispers into your ear.

“Joel,” you mutter simply, holding up a hand for him to be quiet so you can listen.

You hear shuffling in the distance, creaks like wooden boards that you’re guessing is another group of clickers.

“There are more of them than we thought,” you whisper, and Marcus groans lowly. “Hey, we got this.”

With a vague memorization of the hallways, you creep along the walls until you reach your destination, which is, of course, blocked by an idle clicker. Your companion nudges you to say _I got this one_ and sneaks up behind it. You hold your breath until the infected is dealt with and he motions you forward and into the closet. He flicks on his flashlight and sets it face-up on a stool, roves his eyes around the room.

“Ooh, found a rope,” he says, voice still hushed.

You pull out boxes on the lower shelves and look for something you can tie the rope around to latch onto the sill of the skylight. Unfortunately for you, today isn’t your lucky day and you come up empty-handed.

“Okay, I think we need to abandon this plan.”

“What?!” You turn to glare at him, and are met with an equally furious expression. “No, this is all we have, (Name). There has to be something.”

“Marcus, I’m telling you. There’s nothing here.”

“Shut it for a second! _There has to be something._ ”

You sigh in defeat and sink to the floor as he rummages through already-searched boxes. Your only plan, fizzled out in a matter of minutes.

“Look at the map and see where the library is,” he says, collapsing next to you.

With another sigh, you spread the map out on the floor and run your hand over the labels on the paper.

“Found it.... And we have to pass through the fucking cafeteria to get to it.”

“Classrooms?”

“All the ones on this hallway are against the outer wall.”

“Maybe we can find a window?”

You look over at him, and the hopeful look on his face makes a wave of confidence surge inside your chest.

“There has to be,” you say with a smile, and he reciprocates with a wide grin.

“Alright. So the plan just got easier, right?”

With a click of your tongue, your sureness begins to fade.

“Let’s hope so, bud.”

There are open lockers all down the hallway for you to hide in until runners pass by and allow you a short window of relief to try the classroom doors. Most of them are locked. All but Biology 101.

The two of you slink inside and barricade the door with a nearby table to ensure that no infected can sneak up on you.

“Oh, fuck my ass, there’s a window! A whole slew of them, actually.”

You chuckle at his reaction yet again and sift through the drawers for bomb ingredients.

“Keep watch while I try and make these, alright?”

“Where did you learn that?”

“Joel.”

“... I don’t know why I even ask at this point. He’s taught you a lot, hasn’t he?”

You cast a glance over your shoulder as a wide smile stretches your lips.

“We’ve known each other since this pretty much started. I barely knew anything when we met.” The memories make you suck in a deep breath. “God, I was so stupid back then. I was too trusting.”

“What changed?”

You tape up the bomb and set it aside to move around the room in search of alcohol.

_The more you talk about it, the easier it gets, (Name)._

“I was raped a few months after we started traveling together.”

“Holy fuck, I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright. He’s dead now and I have closure. Doesn’t bother me like it used to.”

“You’re really brave, ya know.”

An unknown weight inside your chest suddenly lifts, one you didn’t even know was there, and you turn to smile at him.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Plus, you can use what you learned to teach Jack when he gets older, so some good _has_ come out of it.”

You suck in a deep breath through your nose and wave him over.

“Here. I found a bottle of alcohol and some bandages. We’ll split the weight. I got the bomb, too.”

He nods and takes the items and sets his bag on the teacher’s desk to put them inside. You move to do the same and stuff the bomb into the other side pocket of your pack.

A loud screech fills the room, so piercing that you have to cover your ears as you spin around to find Marcus being pinned to the desk by a runner.

You flick open your pocket knife and sprint over to him before repeatedly driving the blade into the back of its head until it slumps forward onto him. He pushes the infected off of him and gags at the curdled blood splattered on his face and clothes as you back away toward the window. Footsteps outside stampede closer to the room, as do the creaks and groans of clickers.

“We need to go. Now!’

You push open the window and tumble out onto the grass below. A hand lifts you up by your bicep and tugs you forward, and both of you sprint back to the haven of your previously found apartment up the street.

* * *

“Joel, can you stop pacing? You’re making everyone nervous.”

“I just… I got a bad feeling, alright?” The man moves over to the couch and sits down next to an irritated Ellie, Jack fast asleep in her arms. “Something ain’t right.”

She makes a show of rolling her eyes and gives him an unamused glare.

“I’m sure it’s—”she lifts a leg to sit across his shaking thigh, effectively stopping his fidgeting, “I’m sure it’s fine. Like you said earlier, (Name)’s tough. She’s probably putting that guy in his place as we speak.” At the warning glare Joel gives her, she raises her brows. “Alright, so you don’t like him, I’m guessing.”

“He’d better not do anything for her to _have_ to put him in his place.”

At Ellie’s leering grin that stretches from ear-to-ear, he raises a hand to try and stop her from saying anything.

“Oh, you’re totally jealous right now.”

“I am not jealous.”

“Joel, no offense, but you’re a fucking idiot. Any woman that’ll wait a decade for you isn’t gonna jump the bones of some random guy, even if he is her friend.”

He doesn’t know what to say after that, so he just grunts in response and mutters, “Alright, fair point.”

An awkward silence passes between them as they both watch Jack twitch in his sleep. Until something hits Joel.

“Wait a second. Who in the _hell_ are you learning all this talk from?”

Ellie shrugs and explains, “Tommy has some really weird movies.”

* * *

Both of you collapse onto the couch inside the apartment, breathing a sigh of relief after the danger has passed and adrenaline has dropped.

“We almost didn’t make it."

You nod your head in agreement and shoot him a wry grin.

“But we did.” Your smile falters at the melancholy on his face, so unlike him that you start to panic. “Marcus, are you alright?”

He gulps and averts his gaze to the wall directly in front of him.

“Yeah. Fine. Just fine.”

“Why are you acting like this if everything is fine?”

He props his elbows up onto his knees and buries his face in his hands, a groan escaping his lips.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

_Okay, time to actually panic._

“Why are you sorry, Marcus?”

“I should’ve seen the runner in the back room, but I didn’t.” His voice is small, hopeless.

“Listen, it’s not your…”

Your voice trails off when he sits up and yanks the collar of his shirt to the side, exposing the freckled skin of his neck and shoulder—

_and a deep set of teeth marks._

“Holy shit,” you breathe, reach out to touch the indentions to make sure you aren’t just seeing things. You attempt a joke to hopefully lighten the situation but it only succeeds in making you both cringe. “There’s no cutting _this_ off.”

The hurt that twists up his face makes your chest tighten, and you almost reach out to comfort him.

“(Name), I’ll go as long as I can to help you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

You release a shaky breath and take his hand in yours, squeeze until his fingers are colorless.

“Thank you, Marcus. Thank you.”

He pulls you to his chest and wraps an arm around the line of your shoulders before he starts sobbing into the curve of your shoulder.

You feel utterly powerless. The mourning process has already started. A day at most until he fully changes.

He pulls back, wipes at his eyes and manages a weak smile.

“If we start now and don’t take any breaks, we can make it to Newcastle within the day.”

“Let’s get to it, then.”

You slowly start to see the change in your friend as the hours tick by. Whenever you try to ask him a question or even talk to him for that matter, he yells at you to shut up, then quickly apologizes. But you know it isn’t him.

By the twelfth hour of scavenging and driving, you take the wheel while he sits in the passenger side. The long stretch of road calms you, up until he slams a fist into the dash and yells at you to stop the car. With a shaking hand, you pull off on the side of the road and watch as he flings the door open and hops out, slamming it shut.

“It’s the end of the road for me. If we go on any longer, I'm gonna hurt you.”

You round the front of the truck to stand before him, arms crossed.

“You positive? You can’t last any longer?”

He lunges at you, and you’re too slow to fend him off as he slams you back into the car door, bouncing the back of your head off the window.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure! Do it!”

He gathers the last of his will to stagger back and collapse to the ground to seemingly make it easier on you to...

You pull the gun from your waistband and move to stand over him, say, “I’m so sorry, Marcus,” and fire two shots to his chest.

You manage to drag him into the woods so he isn’t completely out in the open and lay a few wildflowers atop his chest, but with only one hand it’s impossible to do anything else. You have to move on.

It takes you half an hour to reach Newcastle. The town is small, and it reminds you of home. Two armed men greet you at the gates and you tell them that you’re here for Tommy and Maria, and they lead you to what looks to be the courthouse.

The room smells like spring air, crisp with the tinge of musk that you love. It reminds you of Joel. God, you miss everyone.

One of the men that had escorted you inside heads upstairs for a minute then comes back down, a familiar woman at his back. You can’t put a finger on who she is, though.

“(Name), you haven’t aged a day.” She pulls you in for a hug, then pulls back once she notices the confusion radiating off of you, a warm smile on her face. “It’s me, Naomi. Heidi’s daughter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanted both perspectives because i feel like it adds more depth to this plot arc, plus did you really think i would leave my lumberjack daddy out of the next few chapters? psh. fat chance.
> 
> also my writing style seems so off and i think it's cause my brain is not wanting to function properly idk it's frustrating


	20. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine returns home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took a long break cause writing was getting to be a chore, but i'm back and i'm better than ever!!!! also i have a feeling that this story is almost at its end and it makes me sad. i don't wanna leave joel and ellie and jack and the whole crew behind :( BUT the problem is that we're a few years from where tlou 2 is supposed to take place and i dont know just how fucked this story will be if i keep going with the plot once that game comes out
> 
> also enjoy a really calm chapter. nothing really happens. just settling back in.

“You smoke?”

You turn to look at Naomi after inspecting the spacious office to find her holding out a single cigarette for you to take.

_Fuck it._

She lights it for you with a match and you take a long drag, collapsing into a chair in front of the desk as she takes her seat behind it. An ashtray is placed in between the two of you, and for a long moment the room is silent and settling.

You haven’t smoked in years.

“It’s nice to see you again, (Name),” she says, a warm smile that proves to be contagious.

“You grew like a damn weed.”

“Well, I am twenty-six now.”

“And looking over a settlement?”

“Mom passed the leadership down to me.”

“Ohhh.”

“Yeah.” She flicks the ashes off her cigarette and folds her arms onto the table. “Before she died, she talked about you.”

You took another drag.

“I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad,” you admit, casting your gaze out of the window behind her as you blow out the puff of smoke. The sky sits clear save for a few fluffy clouds, and you sigh. “How did she always manage to find me, anyway?”

“She felt… attached to you, in a way. You and Joel were one of a kind to her, so she used her connections to keep tabs on you guys. When she started getting sick...” She releases a long breath and rubs at her forehead. “Anyway, Tommy told me that you needed people to protect against the bandits in your area. I have some really good guys that I can manage to spare.”

“How many?”

“Six or seven. Not as many as I’d like to send with you, but I trust in their skills. Plus, we’re having our own problems with hunters.”

You snuff out the fire of your cigarette and wearily lean back into the chair.

“Well, I really appreciate it. Anything’s better than nothing. Where are they?”

“Downstairs. When you’re ready to leave, I’ll go fetch them.”

* * *

The seven of you had chosen to split up into two groups to make travel easier and less suspicious. You had taken your truck and Naomi supplied the other men with their own.

The drive back to Jackson is the most boring trip you’ve ever taken, and you love it. No arguments, no deaths, no bandits or hunters or infected. It’s almost too quiet, makes uneasiness move restlessly inside your chest.

You make it back, however, without incident. The town is quiet, almost somber as you enter the gates. A man passes by and you wave him over, eager to know if the settlement has been attacked since your absence. He says yes, though they were able to fight them off since they were more prepared.

“And where’s Tommy?”

“Him and Joel have been fighting nonstop for the past week. Something about Ellie.”

_Ellie? Shit, this isn’t good._

You drop the men off with one of Tommy’s men, who can help them get situated and find them places to sleep. You have more important things to deal with, like making sure your husband doesn’t kill your brother-in-law, or visa-versa.

Thankfully, the first place that you check is where you find a steaming Joel, angrily cutting up vegetables at the counter as he rants to Ellie.

“I honestly doubt there’s a bigger jackass on this planet than Tommy. I mean,” he dumps carrots into the pot brewing on the stove, “he thinks he can just take over our family since (Name) isn’t here.”

You catch Ellie’s excited eye but don’t have to time to stop her from throwing herself at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m back,” you say with a laugh.

Joel spins around and smiles at you, all crinkled eyes and a relief on his face that makes him look ten years younger. You give Ellie a kiss to the forehead then rush over to meet Joel, something warm blossoming out from your chest as you embrace.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, pulling back to inspect you. “Were you hurt?”

“Coming back was the easiest trip I’ve ever taken.”

“Where’s that one kid?”

You shrug, suddenly unable to look Joel in the eye.

“He took me as far as he could, but he… he was bit.” A silence passes between the two of you, and when Joel opens his mouth to say something, pity in his eyes, you quickly cut him off and shake the guilt away. “Where’s Jack?”

He gives you a look of mild concern at your change in subject and answers, “Upstairs sleeping. And no, you didn’t miss any of those important milestones you were worried about.”

You release a breath and lean into his chest, genuinely glad to be back home with your family. Fifteen years ago, you never would have thought that this was where you would be. That you would have something to live for. A family, a home that you could return to, a sense of importance and responsibility. Being needed is a very strong persuader to keep fighting.

You guess all those “it’ll get better” people were right all along.

You pull away after a long moment and absentmindedly clutch at your handless arm, narrowing your eyes at him. He furrows his brow in turn, crossing his arms to challenge you, as if he knows what you’re about to ask.

“What’s going on with the whole,” you wave your hand in the air to appear nonchalant instead of looking worried as hell like you _actually_ are, “Tommy situation?”

“He’s still keen on the idea of Ellie getting a boyfriend and having kids. I try to tell him that this ain’t the 1800’s anymore, but the asshole won’t listen.”

“And of course _Maria’s_ on his side,” pipes Ellie, face screwed up in disgust. “Can’t we just leave? Like a vacation.” The pleading look on her face makes you extremely conflicted. On one hand, it would be best to get away from all this tension, but on the other hand you have a goddamn baby to take care of. “We could stay in Kentucky for a while. I just… need to get away from this place. It’s getting fucking boring.”

Joel turns to her, hand on hip and brow raised in amusement.

“What, you gonna pack a baby all the way to West Liberty?”

Ellie holds up her arms in a dramatic shrug and says, “Can’t be that hard.”

You and Joel share a smile before the three of you erupt into laughter.

* * *

Jack wakes up an hour later, cooing and blabbering when he sees you standing in the doorway of his room. You immediately go to him, pull him to your chest and rock him side to side. He reaches up to touch your cheek and tries to fist the skin in his tiny hand, pinching you in the process.

You let out an “ow!” and he simply giggles and tugs at your shirt instead.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you mutter, unfortunately too tired to play with him. “Let’s go bother Daddy.”

Tommy had passed Naomi’s men on to Joel to deal with, spouting off a number of tasks that he had yet to complete, so they had set up camp in your living room.

The sight you walk into almost makes you laugh. It looks as if Joel is reading the men a bedtime story, with him sitting on the couch and everyone else crowded around the coffee table in various states of exhaustion.

“Hey guys,” you say in greeting, crossing the living room to sit next to Joel on the couch.

“Holy shit, that is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen,” one of the men confesses, “and I already have a kid.”

You can’t help but laugh, prompting Jack to giggle as well. Joel had told you previously that the baby has been copying certain actions and picking up on things pertaining to communication.

“It’s about time for him to start talking,” Joel says, grabbing playfully at Jack’s thigh, causing the baby to kick his feet and squeal in earnest.

“What about the girl? She your kid, too?” the man from before asks the both of you, clearly interested in the talk about kids. Probably from missing his own.

You and Joel share a quick glance before you explain, “It’s a long story, but we’re like her adoptive parents.”

“I did have a girl before all this, though,” Joel adds, and you squeeze the hand that’s suddenly in your grip. “She, uh, died the night of the outbreak.” A quick round of condolences sweep through the men, but the man next to you simply shrugs. “It hurt for a _real_ long time, but I’ve realized that…. well, being here ain’t any better than being dead. Lot worse actually. So it’s kind of a relief to know that she don’t have to suffer through this.”

When you catch his eye, you give him a look and a smile that hopefully translates into how proud you are of him. That translates into _the first step to healing is saying your hurt out loud._

* * *

The patrols have been set and now the only thing left to do is talk to Tommy, then wait for the next ambush. You find him slouched over his desk, whiskey in hand. His head snaps up when you sound a knock on the door and he smiles at you, obviously exhausted.

“Hey, I was wondering when you were gonna come and see me. I… kinda guessed that Joel told you about our little argument.”

“Little is an understatement, Tommy,” you reply, not meaning to sound as threatening as you did.

He swirls the alcohol around inside his glass before finishing it in one last gulp. Great. The man isn’t even sober.

“Listen, (Name).” You inhale a large breath through your nose and take a seat in front of the desk, preparing yourself for an obvious lecture. “You may not be able to see it given your relationship, but I don’t think you realize just how royally Joel’s fucked up here. Killing the leader of the biggest militia group in the U.S. has made him their number one enemy. Not to mention he said _fuck it_ to our one chance at finding a cure, all because he wanted a substitute for Sarah.” Tommy abruptly chuckles, face screwed up in anger. “Little did he know that… there ain’t no replacing your kid.” He props his elbows up on the desk and buries his face in them as the frustration drains from his body and leaves behind the numbness of raw ice on a healthy ankle: an unnecessary hurt. “What’s it like, being a parent? Not an aunt or a cousin or a godmother or any of that shit. A parent.”

If it weren’t for the somberness weighing down the air between the two of you, you could almost smile. But you know why he’s asking this. Why he brought up any of this. Your conversation with Maria over a year ago still sits heavy in your chest from time to time.

“I know this sounds cliché, but it’s the most rewarding decision of my life. Every day I wake up and realize that I have a reason to carry on. Jack gives me a purpose. And trust me, I thought I loved Joel. That love doesn’t compare to what I feel for my son. It’s….” you shrug, “well, it’s indescribable.”

He nods in understanding then quickly snaps out of whatever spell he was under.

“Well, anyway, I know what you came here to talk to me about and I’m still standing with what I’ve been saying all along.”

Tommy is almost as hard-headed as his brother, and it frustrates you to no end.

“That isn’t gonna happen.” He opens his mouth to speak but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Let’s… come to an agreement instead. How about that?”

Tommy crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, skepticism written all over his face.

“Fine. Let’s come to an agreement.”

“If Ellie finds herself in the company of a boy she likes, then so be it. But we shouldn’t force it. We need to let it happen naturally.”

_Like she’s gonna fall in love with a boy, (Name). You know damn well that’s almost impossible._

Tommy sighs, visibly torn at the thought of relenting even a little. It isn’t the Miller way apparently.

“Alright. I won’t bring it up,” he then shakes a finger at you, a playful smile on his face that looks a lot more like the Tommy you know, “but I don’t promise anything else.”

You hold your hands up in mock surrender and say, “That’s all I ask.”

* * *

“Okay, so I was thinking that it’s time for me to learn to drive.”

You and Joel share a quick glance at each other across the dining table before turning your attention back to her.

“Why do you say that?” Joel asks, taking a small sip of his morning coffee that was just shipped in from a nearby town.

“Well, I’ve been sixteen for a few months now, and I’ve been reading a lot of magazines and shit and apparently teenagers start driving when they turn sixteen.” She rests her elbows on the table and folds her hands together, as if she’s thinking up a diabolic plan. “So when we go to Kentucky, can you teach me how to drive? _Please_?”

You and Joel answer her at the same time.

“First of all, we aren’t going to—”

“Ellie, it’s nothing that exciting—”

“Oh, bullshit! Plus, it’s not even about the driving! It’s about the freedom of the open road.”

“... There are no open roads anymore.”

Joel’s comment makes you laugh so hard that you almost drop the spoonful of yogurt you were going to feed Jack.

“Smartass,” Ellie hisses, and she sulks the rest of the morning.


	21. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can change in the span of seconds. That's something our favorite couple learns the hard way, yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am.... so sorry for my absence. genuinely. but the good news is that i was finally able to get help for some issues and i'm now back to writing.

Joel motions you over with a curl of his fingers, not even chancing a glance at you.

“C’mon. Hurry.”

The pain in your head makes your vision blur, causes you to stumble over to him. He stabilizes you with a hand around your upper arm, gripping you so hard it hurts.

The scene before you is a bloodbath, houses up in flames. Jackson. Or what is left of it.

“Holy fuckballs,” Ellie exasperates, holding hands with a one-year-old Jack. “What are we gonna do?”

“You alright to walk?” Joel asks you, turning you to face him. He winces at the sight of your forehead, bloody and bruised and almost caved in from the pipe that had hit you. “The bandits that did this are burning right now, don’t you worry.”

“I know,” you deadpan, barely heard over the roar of the fire.

“Guys,” Ellie interrupts, waving a hand in the air to get your attention, “you can first-aid later. We should probably get going.” She nods to Jack, who stands with tear-stained cheeks and covered in soot.

Joel releases a breath through his nose, looks over at you and says, “Right.”

It takes only a few minutes to find a working car.

“So, what’s the plan?” Ellie asks from the backseat, propping her elbows up on the center console.

You and Joel share a knowing look.

“Kentucky,” he says, “like we’ve been talking about for months. Nothing’s changed.”

She hums before regarding you with a soft push of your shoulder. “(Name), you’ve been really quiet. Are you okay?”

“Just shocked is all.” You turn your head to send her an assuring smile, even though all you want to do is vomit and scream and cry, in that particular order. “I’ll be alright.”

Joel casts a glance at you from the corner of his eye, and when he grabs your hand, squeezes it to say _it’s okay,_  you do start crying.

Your home, destroyed. For the next month, you’re going to be fighting for your lives. Are you ever going to know what consistency feels like again?

“Hey, c’mon, don’t cry,” Joel soothes in the way he does, sounding more disingenuous than he actually feels, releasing your hand to rub at your back.

“I’m just so tired of this, Joel. We aren’t young like we used to be. And we have a baby. A fucking _baby,_ ” you release the last sentence in a barely-heard breath and turn to huddle against the car door.

* * *

You find a run-down apartment in a small city a few hours from Jackson. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, a roast-infested kitchen. The usual. When you start to subconsciously clean up, you laugh at yourself. There’s no point.

That night, after finding a stream to bathe in and coming back to the apartment, Ellie says she’ll keep watch and let you and Joel sleep. Of course, there isn’t much sleeping and more fighting over how you’re going to keep Jack safe.

You had managed to grab necessities once the fire started, but that meant you couldn’t bring toys or anything to occupy him. And you can’t have him crying for fear of attracting infected.

“I think there’s a mall around here. You got a map?”

You look and there is, in fact, a mall.

“Listen, (Name). We go tomorrow while Ellie stays here—”

“Joel—” you warn.

“She’s capable. You know that.”

You give him a challenging look and he meets it with his own. Stubborn man.

“I don’t like this,” you hiss.

“What, you think I do? Hell no. But we have to do something. Even you said so yourself, before this happened, that Jack is always number one. Just,” he grabs you by your shoulders and softens his eyes, and yours soften in return, “trust me on this. If you hate me for everything else I’ve ever done, let me do right by our son.”

 _Our_ son. He isn’t just yours. That’s selfish and unfair no matter how afraid you are of something happening to him. You have to relinquish the control some time.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” he asks, taking your face in hand to keep your eyes focused on him.

“Yeah,” you say in a released breath.

The next morning, a melancholy settles over the town you’re in. It’s fall now, and the cold seems to roll in earlier every year.

“Man, it’s pretty out here. If only there weren’t things trying to kill us,” Ellie comments, pulling her jacket tighter around her.

“You’re gonna be okay with Jack, right?” you ask, wringing your hands as you watch him tug on her hair.

“Yeah,” she winces, “just fine, Mom.”

You manage a smile despite your anxiety, and Joel rests a hand on your shoulder.

“They’ll be alright,” he assures you. “Plus, we’ll be back before it even gets dark.”

The next morning, you head out and find the journey shockingly peaceful. The mall is pretty sparse in terms of infected, probably since the town didn’t look all that populated in the first place. Getting Jack new clothes and toys proves to be quite easy, and Joel comments that it’s because smart people aren’t having kids these days. You elbow him playfully, giggling when he wraps an arm around your waist and spins you around.

It isn’t like the world to actually allow a moment of respite, to breathe and simply enjoy being _alive_ for once, and the rest of the day goes on without a hitch. A few infected here and there, but that’s to be expected and it’s nothing you haven’t faced before.

When you make it back to the apartment, Jack sits in the living room alone, playing with a plastic rattle. Something you had found inside a chest in one of the bedrooms. Joel nudges you, nods toward the direction of the hallway, and then you hear it. A muffled sobbing coming from the bathroom.

In a second, you’re standing there in the doorway, gaping at Ellie’s fetal-position form in the bathtub.

“Hey,” you say softly, reassuringly, moving to crouch beside her, “it’s alright. Just let it out, okay? I’m here.”

You're honestly surprised it had taken this long for reality to set in. Of course, being alone with her thoughts didn’t help at all. She leans into you and wraps her arms around your waist, and you cradle her head against your chest as she cries. Wonders about Hannah and Tommy and the nice woman with the garden next door, and you can’t give her an answer. All you can do is support her.

* * *

You wake up the next morning bright and early, shuffle out from under Joel’s arm and avoid a sleeping Jack on the other side of you. Ellie stands in front of the sink when you pass by the bathroom, scissors in her hand. She catches your gaze in the mirror.

“Mom, listen, can you do me a favor?” She said it again. “Can you cut my hair?”

Your eyebrows immediately shoot up. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” You move to stand directly behind her. “Any reason why?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. I just feel like I need a fresh start.”

“I completely understand,” you say, reaching for the scissors. “Go get a chair from the kitchen.”

This is the first time you’ve ever styled anyone’s hair, and she sits perfectly still as you cut it to her desired length. Barely brushing her shoulders.You braid it for her and tie it off with a spare elastic, and she smiles at you in thanks. It doesn’t quite meet her eyes, though, and worry swirls thickly inside your chest.

The first thing Joel says when he sees Ellie is how much he “likes the new style”, to which she gives you a discreet thumbs up.

Leaving proves more difficult than you thought. A blockade had been set up by a group of militiamen during the night to funnel people into the city and make sure that nobody entering was infected. You hadn’t predicted it, the town being used as some sort of refuge, and once they were on the streets, there stood no chance of you just driving off without being spotted. It was a risk you wouldn’t take.

No, the best course of action is to blend in and ask around to see if someone can help you. Hopefully they’ll be more compassionate when they see Jack.

Of course, things aren’t always so easy.

After overhearing a conversation, the people had been transferred from the town over after being overrun by infected because of an incident with a bitten child and a people-filled shelter. Unfortunately, because of this, everyone is too wary of your presence, as if they know you’re outsiders. Ellie stays inside the apartment for her own safety, as the guards walk the streets and perform daily infection checks to passers-by. You had been subjected to it for both days that you had ventured out to observe.

You find your opportunity three days later, while the patrolmen are busy with an outbreak inside the apartments on the other end of town. They had unfortunately taken your truck for themselves, but you’re forced to move despite lacking adequate transportation. Who knows when you’ll get this opportunity again?

Your group almost makes it to the deserted blockade before you hear him.

“Hey! What are y’all up to on this fine evening?” His southern drawl reminds you of home, but the hunting rifle in his hands makes you take a step back, clutching Jack to your chest. “You know you ain’t supposed to leave. That was the deal.”

He approaches you, pulls a scanner out of his pack, and Ellie tenses up next to you and clutches painfully at your arm.

Joel steps in front of both of you and holds out a harmless hand. “Listen, we don’t want no trouble, alright? My wife,” he motions to you, “didn’t think it was safe for our son to be here anymore, with the outbreaks and all.”

The man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Understandable, but I got orders to follow. Now, get on your knees. All of you.”

“(Name), I can’t do that!” Ellie quickly whispers to you, loud enough for only you to hear.

“Yes you can, Ellie," you mutter, "It’ll be alright.”

The three of you kneel before the man, heart beating out of your chest when he checks Joel, then you, then…

Many things happen within the span of a few short seconds. The scanner goes off and the man begins to drag Ellie away by the collar of her shirt. Joel sends him sprawling with a punch to his jaw, and then all is quiet.

Then a shot rings out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment i need to know im doing a good job and that people are still sticking with this story. thank u in advance.


	22. This Shit Keeps Getting Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family is back on the road and ready for all manner of shit to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: hasnt updated in 7 months  
> also me: posts a 1k word chapter
> 
> im.... so sorry for the wait???? i lost all inspiration for this story until tlou2 brought my muse back to life and now im ready to get back into the swing of things!!!!
> 
> also the comments that all of u left while i was out of commission made me so happy and guilty that i just knew i HAD to get something out asap to let u know im not giving up on this

Ellie falls sick from her bullet wound a few weeks after hiding in the sewers under the city. For obvious reasons. Her condition stirs a fresh argument between you and Joel about whether to find a way out of the city or rid the townsfolk of the oppressive militia, Joel arguing for the former and you arguing for the latter.

“Have you not learned by now what happens by sticking your nose where it don’t belong?”

“We can’t just leave these people to die, Joel!”

He stops pacing and turns to glare at you, a dark look in his eyes.

“Yes. We can.” He wraps bloody hands around your biceps and lightly squeezes to get your attention. “It ain’t just us anymore that we gotta worry about.”

You clench your jaw as your eyes roam over to where Ellie sits against the wall, pale-faced and sweaty. As much as you hate to say it, as much as it utterly _kills_ you, he’s right.

“Fine,” you hiss, shoes sloshing around inside the dirty water as you walk over to Ellie. “Elles? Are you ready to get moving?”

She offers you a brisk nod, standing with the help of the metal drain as leverage against her back.

“I promise, we’ll get you somewhere comfortable as soon as possible,” you offer, throwing her arm over your shoulders as Joel picks up a shaking Jack.

“He’s cold,” Joel mutters, wraps as much of his arms around the toddler as he can to trap in body heat.

The way out of town is cold and wet and dirty, but is much more uneventful than your other option and for that you're thankful.

You find a nearby settlement of small houses riddled with graffiti, ranging from the firefly symbol to ‘KEEP OUT’ to child-like art that makes your heart clench and earns you a soft look from Joel.

The house you decide on is a two-story brick home on the edge of town, perfect for scouting and a quick getaway if need be.

Ellie collapses onto a dusty bed, long-dried blood splattered over the sheets. Jack curls up against her, heeds your warning about avoiding the wound in her side.

You and Joel immediately disappear to the next room over, dissolved into heated whispers about what the fuck to do. Where to go. How to _get_ there. The discussion forms no resolution and instead leaves you with more questions and an even more strained relationship.

Kentucky still serves as the final destination, though getting there is a challenge in and of itself. The shifting of seasons will make travel difficult, and with a fresh army of fireflies out and about since your husband’s _stunt_ those years ago, you ultimately decide to stay here until Ellie can heal.

Weeks pass. Jack grows into a very loud and curious two-year-old, and Ellie slowly gets her bearings. But the spark from her eyes has faded drastically, and that scares you.

Your nightmares return, unending and vicious and on countless occasions you wake to find yourself hunkered against the corner of the bathroom, Joel’s voice being the only thing to bring you back to the present, as nightmarish as it may be.

“I thought I had finally gotten over him. After all these years, maybe I could have peace. But I was so fucking _wrong,_ ” you say one night, shakily curled up against a strong frame, fingers not your own brushing sweaty hairs away from your heated forehead.

Everything feels too hot, _unbearable_. Joel’s body molded against yours. The stickiness of the backs of your knees. The drying sweat upon your face.

“I know,” is all he says, then he wraps a thick arm around your waist and you can almost feel his frown against your shoulder as he brushes the tips of his fingers down your ribs. “Jesus, I can count them.”

You had been so preoccupied with making sure that everyone else had been fed that you neglected yourself in the process, reducing to a tiny, fragile thing who could barely stand on her own.

“We can’t keep doing this. You’ll die,” he hisses, the sharp burn of his beard on your bare skin making you shudder. “We gotta leave. Tomorrow. Find Heidi and her crew.”

And you do. It takes weeks to trek back to them, but you make it and Heidi almost collapses when she sees what you’ve been reduced to. The panic on her face slips by unnoticed, as all you can think about is finding a warm bed and sleeping for a night or three.

“Grant, get them a place. _Now_.”

She sets you up in a quaint townhouse, peaceful and so serene you have to pinch yourself to remind yourself that you aren’t dreaming. The past few months have worn you down. All the worrying and anger and fear stretching you resolve into a thin line that may break at any moment. But as long as they’re safe, you’re okay with that.

Joel finds you lounging in a tub filled with warm water, soap suds a refreshing lather on tired arms.

“Mind if I join you?” he grumbles, already toeing off his shoes and tossing his shirt aside.

You curl up to make room and sigh when he stretches your leg out and digs his thumb into the arch of your foot. He looks as battle-weary as you, hair almost fully grey now, a good chunk of weight lost alongside you.

“We’re lucky to be alive, ya know.” A shitty conversation starter, but it’s better to tame the elephant in the room before it gets a chance to trample you. “If we would’ve spent even a few more days there….” You refuse to finish the sentence, the consequence of death weighing heavily upon your chest.

You couldn’t leave Ellie and Jack behind. You just couldn’t.

He leans forward, the motion throttling you back twenty years ago to the time in the capitol building, when your feelings for each other weren’t fully explored yet.

“But we did survive.” When you refuse to meet his eyes, he grabs your chin and angles your head back to meet his gaze, warm and unwavering and _god, you love this man._

Your lips meet, chaste and exploring and you had almost forgot how right it felt to kiss him. Your troubles melt away with the warm water and his hands’ curious exploration of your withering frame.

“Don't know if I've told you in a while but I love you,” he mutters, pulls you into his lap as hints of lavender and forest fill your senses, so deliciously overwhelming that you tilt your head back and groan when his lips latch on to the smooth skin there.

His fingers explore the apex of your thighs, searching and pressing and he presses a hand against your mouth to muffle an inevitable moan as those fingers sink into you.

“Jesus, Joel,” you huff as he pulls his hand away, “I want more. Please.”

Behind tired eyes, a spark is lit at your words.

He removes his fingers, brushes his cock against you, lines himself up….

And Jack’s cries make you both pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as youve probably guessed im very off my game and have no idea what im doing anymore so forgive me for now !!! 
> 
> hopefully ppl are still reading this hot mess and if u are thank u from the bottom of my heart pls let me know if ur still here!!!
> 
> (also off topic but ive been obsessed with detroit become human and my sweet angel connor and i kinda wanna do some fics with him but idk)


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